Even the Best Fall Down Sometimes
by Bolinlover123
Summary: Headcannon that will intergrade and update with cannon as Book 3 continues. Post "Stakeout": The aftermath of the battle against the Red Lotus leaves none of Team Avatar unscathed. While the Krew fights for their lives, Korra learns what the infamous gang plans for her, and Bolin loses something irreplaceable. How will they be able to cope with the never-ending changes?
1. Hero's Cry

_So, this is an idea I got from a headcannon of mine, and also kinda ties into a prompt I read online, both which, oddly enough, have some similarities. From the prompt that was kinda like my headcannon, I came up with some of my own ideas for a fic, with some help from my good friend Boa. :)_

_(Hope that made sense)_

_Let me know what you guys think. Will be continued as a whole story, as close to following canon as I can make it! Each of the Krew will get their chance, and it will be the next episodes from their POVs in turn, with my take on them._

* * *

.

{Amputees frequently wake up in a state of disbelief, and there's a recurring theme of doing their best to ignore the situation. Frequently, the first response is amicable and accepting, the anger and embarrassment hitting later.}

.

* * *

**Even the best fall down sometimes:**

Bolin isn't aware how long he's been lying motionless in the murky nothingness. His eyelids are heavy—he wonders how long it's been since he's last opened them, and then realizes that he doesn't particularly care. After all, when was the last time that he'd slept this deeply, without the fear of street gangs coming after him, or waking up early for probending practice, or…anything?

He knows that it can't be sleep, though, because his body feels numb in the strangest way. His legs are twinging the way they sometimes do when they fall asleep, or after a long day. Bolin's arms, on the other hand, feel unbearably heavy, like something is pinning them down.

There's an annoying beeping noise in the background, and he groans, wishing that everything would just go silent again. He coughs, and the sound goes up in both speed and volume.

"…you imagine…feel…can't believe that…sorry…Bolin…please…damnit, just…wake up…"

A sudden sharp pain in his stomach leaves him confused, because what the hell had just happened? Why is he hearing Mako's voice? Why had Mako sounded so hurt and heartbroken?

"…I'm sorry…so sorry…Korra…arm…burnt…too…tell…in person…needs you…apologize…"

The world around him starts to blur into color, and the beeping around him escalates into a frantic crescendo. Bolin coughs, the noise sounding raw and animalistic coming from his throat. "Mhmm…" he moans, forcing his eyelids to open.

For some reason, Bolin feels like he's swimming upwards from the bottom of an infinitely deep pool, or climbing up an incredibly stiff mountain. Maybe he is, because he thinks-at least he is pretty sure-that the last thing he remembers, is swimming for his very life. Is he still in water...? No, that makes _no_ sense with what he's hearing, and he doesn't _feel_ wet...

Then, what...?

"...so hard...gonna fix this...please, I...wake up..."

It's hard, almost insanely hard, but he manages to force his eyes open and sees Mako, scarf wrapped around his shoulders as he leans forward in a plastic chair, his eyes wide and face pale.

It registers on a subconscious level that he hasn't seen Mako this relieved before in a long time.

"…M'ko?" he mumbles, testing out his voice. It sounds raw, but it's clear and loud enough. His breathing is a little strained and he feels sore all over, like he's completed a workout with Toza or a metalbending lesson. "Wha' happ'ned?"

"Bo!" His brother's voice is like sunshine breaking through dark, grey clouds and he relaxes, basking in the glow and comfort of the low baritone. Mako's hand tentatively touches Bolin's right hand, which is covered in bandages. "Are…what…are you okay? What do you remember?"

His glassy eyes twitch around the room; blurring, than straining, than blurring again. The machines, and equipment, and atmosphere clear any doubts about his location, instantly.

_Hospital._ He's in a hospital. His foggy mind registers _that_ much, at least.

"S'okay," Bolin whispers, choking on a hacking cough and his eyes sting with the force of the cough. "Don't rem'mber…Wha' happened?" Seeing as his other hand is occupied, Bolin's brain sends a message to his left hand to wipe his eyes so that he can see better, because the world looks like he's squinting at it through a hangover—

But nothing happens.

Confused, he looks down at his arm, expecting to see it pinned down or in a sling or something, but there's nothing there.

There is literally nothing there but an empty space where his left arm used to be. His shoulder is wrapped in bandages, and subconsciously he knows that it's been burnt somehow, but he's too focused on the fact that his arm is missing.

It's gone.

"No…" Bolin doesn't realize he's said anything out loud. He doesn't have an arm.

He doesn't have an arm.

It's simply...not there.

He's…he's broken.

His eyes sting and hot tears slide down his face, making him feel even worse because _Spirits help him_, he is _not_ going to cry in front of Mako. Bolin doesn't want to cry at all-

His arm has to be there.

Bolin blinks several times, and there's still nothing there.

His stomach clenches then, and suddenly there's vomit all over his bed sheets; thick and yellow and disgusting. The stench makes him gag, and Mako, to his everlasting credit, doesn't jump back.

"Bo…Bo…please, listen to me…Asami—she'll make you another arm. She told me she's going to make one, you're…you're going to be okay. I'm here for you, I—I love you so much, Bolin. Please, just don't panic. It's okay, it'll all be okay…"

Mako's words are white noise to his ears—all Bolin has the capacity to focus on is the gaping space where his arm used to be. And it's strange, because he can_ feel_ it. He can flex it and…and his _wrist itches._

_It fucking itches._

He thinks it's at that moment where his tears go harder than ever.

"I'm sorry, Bolin, I'm sorry," Mako repeats over and over, like a prayer or a mantra, each word feeling like someone has thrust a rusty dagger into his heart.

"…It—it's okay." Lies. He lies. "It's…okay, M-Mako…" he forces the words out of his mouth. The lies are like maggots, squirming under his skin, but he continues. "Don't ever be s-sorry. I'm fine." Bolin makes his lips tilt into a smile, even though a blind person could probably tell that he didn't mean it.

_I don't have an arm. I'm not fine, I'm broken…I'mbrokenbrokenbroken, I'm Not-Fine._

"Are you—" his voice cracks, because what if Mako had lost something too? Maybe a leg? Had had surgery? His mind jumps to more and more gruesome possibilities until he feels the urge to vomit again.

Mako's hand squeezes his like a lifeline, as though his brother is the one that had lost his arm. "I'm fine, Bolin. Don't worry about me, bro."

They're silent for a moment before Mako speaks again, albeit hesitantly. "I…I know that this…feels like a nightmare, Bolin, and I'm so sorry…you don't even know how sorry I am—but I am here for you, okay? I'll never leave you—I don't care if you're missing all of your body parts. We're still brothers no matter what, Bolin. I love you."

"Love you back, big bro," Bolin says back, the phrase familiar on his tongue as he looks away from Mako's amber eyes and back down at the empty space where his arm had once been. He lets out a shaky breath, and clams his mouth shut.

His brother envelopes him in a huge hug and gets rid of the puke-stained sheets, tossing them on the floor and waits with him until the doctors come.

I'm broken.

Why? he thinks, wanting to howl and sob and scream, but wisely holds it in as a doctor questions him, checking his mental capacity. Why did it have to be me?

It's then that Bolin realizes, that even heroes fall, sometimes.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Specifically how Bolin got his injury/ what happened during the battle, will be discussed next chapter. ;)_

_All characters will get their turn with their POVs for book 3 as the canon story continues._


	2. My Brother's Keeper

_Okay everyone, this chapter is still about Bolin, with Mako in it. _

_Next chapter will be Korra's POV and be with cannon. Enjoy!_

_A big thank you to 'YatoShrine' for writing this chapter for me! She was a great help! Also, if you have time, please go look at her profile and take a gander at her stories; they shall not disappoint._

* * *

Bolin falls to the ground in a heap, barely feeling the impact as his knees hit the hard earth with bruising force. He stays like that, sucking in deep lungfuls of air, slumped forward with his weight on his arm...His only stupid-useless arm. He can't stand to look at what's left of his other arm. It's an ugly, mutilated thing and it makes him nauseous just thinking of it.

He bites back the animal growl of frustration that fights to escape him. He's been at this for hours and he thinks he might've moved a pebble once. Then again, that might've just been the wind. A bead of sweat slides down his forehead and slips off the tip of his nose, leaving a small dark spot in the dirt where it lands. Bolin watches as the dry earth sucks it up greedily and it disappears in a matter of seconds. Like it'd never even been there at all.

Once he can breathe more easily, Bolin heaves himself off the ground to stand again. The stance he adopts is mechanical, none of the fierce determination he'd felt in the first hour evident in his movements. He's just going through the motions now, already convinced of the outcome of this next attempt.

The doctors had said his bending would be damaged - maybe permanently - by the disruption of his chi. Losing an arm did that, apparently. Not to mention the physical challenges missing an arm brought to bending.

He'd refused to believe it would happen to him. No way was he losing his arm and his bending all at once. Earthbending was as much a part of him as breathing, and the thought of losing it, too...No. No, he couldn't even begin to think of a life without it. He'd stubbornly kept his thoughts away from the possibility the whole time he'd spent recovering in the hospital.

They'd taken him back to Air Temple Island where he'd spent most of his days resting in the room he and his brother shared. It was night now and everyone was asleep. Now that he'd recovered enough, he'd snuck outside to prove to himself that his bending wasn't lost and his future wasn't nearly as bleak as it felt.

Right now, he isn't sure if he's just proving the opposite instead.

He shoves the thoughts to the back of his mind. Not now. Later. Always later.

He solidifies his stance, takes a deep breath, and bends. Or at least, he tries. But just like it's happened over and over and _over before-_it doesn't work. He ignores that glaring fact, though, and just keeps moving like he is bending. A strike here, and a thrust there. He's off balance without his missing limb, but he just keeps moving. Has to keep moving or else his mind is going to go back there and he _can't_ let it right now.

But it doesn't work, because he's been trying and trying all night, and he's exhausted and his bending is lost. Gonegonegone. And now that he's thinking it, he _can't stop_ thinking it. Can't stop thinking how _broken_ and _useless_ he's become. Always was. And alone in the dark like this with no one to see him, he finally let's go of his hold on the dam of emotions inside and they tear through him with an almost physical force. He's drowning in a despair that's been building and building with nowhere to go and he feels like he's choking on it.

All it takes is the first choked sob and he can't stop. The tears he'd been doing so well at holding back all this time are falling freely now and there's no sign of their stopping. He's not sure when he'd fallen, but he's collapsed on the ground now, curled around himself with his good arm hugging his midsection and his body shaking with strangled sobs he's failing horribly to stifle.

He let's his thoughts go to the dark places he'd been steadfastly avoiding. He let's himself feel the seething anger at the monsters who'd done this to him. The people who made him into...this. And he lets himself wonder selfishly, _why me?_ What had he done to deserve losing so much? He'd already been through so much. And just when it was looking up...

"_It's not fair_..." He says weakly, the empty darkness around him silent.

The whole time he just keeps sobbing, rocking back and forth. If he wasn't a sorry, broken mess before, he most definitely is now. The only consolation he has is that at least nobody can see him looking so pathetic.

It's just as he's thinking this, that he becomes aware of a hand gripping his shoulder and he suddenly hears a familiar voice saying familiar words he heard so much growing up, "Hey, Bo. It's okay. It's alright. Tell me what's wrong."

Bolin feels hot shame and embarrassment as an extra forceful sob manages to escape his lips at the words. He unconsciously angles his body to try and hide his disfigurement. Why did he have to be so pathetic? And in front of Mako of all people? He'd been trying so hard to be strong, to show Mako he wasn't his helpless little brother who needed coddling. And now this.

"Hey, come on, talk to me. Are you hurt? Is it your arm?" Mako's voice has an edge of worry mixed in the concern now.

"I just...need a second..." Bolin says between heaving sobs, struggling to pull himself together.

"Okay." Mako soothes, "Okay. Take all the time you need, then."

Mako keeps a steadying hand on his shoulder as Bolin focuses on getting his breathing back to normal. He's not sure how he's ever going to live this down, but he lets himself be comforted by Mako's presence, despite himself. Mako's patient the whole time, murmuring reassurances as Bolin slowly, slowly, gathers his composure. He does his best to hide the ugly, useless stump that used to be his arm. He doesn't look up into his brother's eyes, afraid that he'll see pity in them. Or worse, disgust.

"It's okay. I'm here," Mako says, always the calm older brother, "I've got you."

It takes Bolin awhile to calm down enough to speak relatively normally, if a bit unsteadily. "I'm sorry," He murmurs.

"What in the world do you have to be sorry for?" Mako asks him, sounding like he genuinely cannot think of a reason Bolin should feel guilty.

"I'm just so pathetic and weak and you always have to take care of me," Bolin explains. How does Mako not understand?

Mako stays silent. For a moment, Bolin's worried that now that he pointed it out to him, his brother sees it and doesn't know what to say. He keeps his eyes fixed on his knees and doesn't say a word. Maybe if he doesn't move, Mako will leave him and no one will bother him for a long, long time.

"Is that what you really think?" Mako says, finally breaking the crushing silence. His voice is low and something dangerous lurks behind it.

"It's not what I think, Mako. It's the truth." Bolin says.

Suddenly, Mako has his other hand on Bolin's other shoulder and he pulls him up to face him. Bolin keeps his eyes down.

"Listen to me, Bo. You may be loud, annoying, short-sighted, and, sure, you can be a little obnoxious from time to time-"

"Not helping." Bolin interrupts

"From time to time...," Mako repeats, giving Bolin a pointed look, "But you are _not_ pathetic. You are a lot of things, but weak doesn't even come close to making the list."

"Look at me, Mako," Bolin says, gesturing himself with his one good arm, "I can't even-" and he hates himself for it, but his breath hitches, "I can't even bend a stinking pebble!"

"Bolin, your bending isn't you."

"And what am I without it?" Bolin shouts, suddenly frustrated, because Mako just won't seem to understand, "Just a stupid little burden to everyone around me! And now I'm missing an arm on top of that! I should just do everyone a favor and disappear for good."

"Don't you dare say that," Mako says, his voice quiet but trembling with some barely checked emotion. Hurt or anger or both, Bolin doesn't know. It makes him stop in his tracks and look up at Mako in surprise. "Not after everything we've been through together."

Bolin is stunned, because there's no pity or disgust in his brother's eyes when he meets them. Just fiery determination, hurt, and...fear. Why would Mako be afraid?

"I couldn't...I can't do it without you, Bolin." Mako says, his voice raw and vulnerable and Bolin feels his own throat tighten and his jaw burn with more tears, "When you were in a coma in the hospital, and the doctors said you would die from infection if we didn't remove your arm..." Mako's face takes on a haunted look, "I just couldn't imagine anything happening to you. I was so scared." Mako takes a deep breath, as if all this honesty at once is almost painful,"And when we lost mom and dad I...I would've checked out if it wasn't for you." Mako had never told him this before, and Bolin's hand suddenly reaches up to grip Mako's shoulder, "And not just because I knew I needed to take care of you. It's because you always saw how things were good and how they were going to get better when all I could think about was where our next meal would come from. Even after all these years, you never lost that. If that doesn't take strength, I don't know what does. You're the strongest person I know, Bolin. I know I never say it, but it's true. I depend on you."

"Mako..." Bolin says, "I don't know if I can be that strong right now. I don't even know how I'll ever be able to do anything like this. It's...it's hard to see how this is going to get better." He admits, voice barely above a whisper.

"Then I'll just have to have enough hope for the both of us." Mako says without having to pause to think, "We'll take it day by day." And without warning, he pulls Bolin in for a hug. Bolin stiffens in surprise at first, but then he leans into it and buries his face in Mako's night shirt. It's warm and safe and it feels like home and Bolin can't remember the last time Mako's been the one to initiate a hug, but he doesn't question it.

After a moment, Bolin works up enough courage to ask Mako a question that's been twisting his insides almost since he first woke up in the hospital. He pulls back so he can see his brother's face when he asks, "Mako...do you think...Is it ugly?"

Mako looks confused, "Is what ugly?"

"My..." And Bolin doesn't finish, just indicates his missing limb without looking at it. He's not even sure what to call it anymore. It's not an arm. Not anymore. Just a broken, useless stump.

Mako's eyes widen when they take in Bolin's meaning. "No, Bolin. No." He says, and reaches to touch the remains of his arm and Bolin nearly flinches away, but he catches himself. "This is a part of you. And there's nothing ugly about it."

Mako's touch is gentle and reassuring. There's no hesitation Bolin would've expected if Mako was put off by the stump. And it's that, along with his words, that convinces Bolin that Mako means what he says. It might be longer before he ever really believes the words himself, but they help nonetheless.

"Thank you, Mako." Bolin says.

"Don't mention it," Mako says, with a small, sad smile. Then he pauses. "And, Bolin? Next time, talk to someone. We're all here for you. You don't have to do this alone."

Bolin nods, his throat tight. He would try.

And it seems fitting that, there, with his firebender brother, Bolin begins to feel a flicker of something a little like hope. It's the first spark in a long time.

* * *

_Thanks everyone: next chapter is Korra and Zaheer_. Cannon shall be followed.


	3. God Bless This Chid

_Kai: The Ultimatum- _

_._

_"__I am never alone wherever I am. The air itself supplies me with a century of love. When I breathe in, I am breathing in the laughter, tears, victories, passions, thoughts, memories, existence, joys, moments, and the hues of the sunlight on many tones of skin; I am breathing in the same air that was exhaled by many before me. The air that bore them life; my ancestors. And so how can I ever say that I am alone?" _― C. JoyBell C.

_._

* * *

If any one of them was going to die, it was going to be him.

Kai never thought himself to be any kind of martyr. An orphan street rat, turned pacifist airbender in the span of a mouth, hardly deemed himself worthy of this kind of sacrifice. Yet, he could not deny the change within him, the gut-wrenching need to defend these people whom he had grown so close to in the short period of time training at the Air Temple.

Third-Eyed freak made the cobble stones in front of him erupt in a in a cry of dust and smoke. The vibrations nearly sent him to the ground.

If this feeling-_loyalty? Love?- _was what having a family was truly like, than Kai knew he had found where he was meant to be. He just hoped his mother would have at least something to be proud of him for. Maybe he _was_ above petty schemes and cold yuans exchanged between greasy palms. Maybe-

Another explosion threatened to blow out his eardrums.

Someone screamed.

The baby started wailing.

_The person who stole that stuff was the old me. Once I got airbending, I changed. I don't know how to explain it, but I feel like airbending chose me for a reason, like I'm a new person._

No.

Kai's fists clenched at his sides, and a deep passion, more fierce and sharp than any gust of wind an Airbender could create bubbled from inside him.

The bison shrieked. Another horrible boom shook the hillside.

Their fates were upon them.

_He was suddenly five-years old again, and looking into his mother's green, glazed over eyes, all red and sunken in from illness. Her clammy, skeleton hand snaked out from the dank sheets and intertwined in his fingers._

_Kai, my darling. I'm so sorry..._

_D-don't be, Momma. It's not- not your f-fault._

_Her breath had been wheezy at best, and he could tell, even at that young age- that she was looking at him and not really seeing him._

_P-promise me...something..._

_W-what, Momma?_

_That you'll always...always be a good boy...and help others..._

_Momma..._

_You're meant to- to do big things, my darling. I k-know it._

_And Kai had looked at her face as her eyes drooped closed. He gave her hand one last squeeze._

_I'll do whatever I can...I promise._

He's stepping out into the open, and snapping open his glider before he has time to think about it one more second.

"What are you doing?" Her voice is full of that selfless worry that he can only hope to have. He doesn't deserve her. Never will.

He tells himself to make this one glance quick, because they're running out of time, and this is the last time he'll ever get to see her beautiful face.

He doesn't even hesitate; "Whatever I can." _Jinora, I lov-_

_Boom._

And he's running out into the hellfire before he can force himself to meet her eyes again.

_"Just get to the bison!"_

Then he's flying and dodging for his very life, and he sends a gust of air at the freak, but it barely does anything.

He's fighting for all of them them. His family. His ancestors.

_For her._

Then, suddenly, the explosion is coming straight for him, and he can do another but give himself a petty shield of air.

He smells his clothes burning. His bones ache and his vision is red and black. He goes slack, and is

falling

falling

falling...

The last thing he hears is her voice screaming his name.

_You're meant to do big things, my darling. I know it._

If anyone of them was going to die, it was going to be him.

He smiles.


	4. Pains that Demand to be Felt

_"I-it doesn't even hurt...that much," Bolin groans, cradling his blooded and blistering left arm against his equally as battered body, chunks of lava eating away at whatever flesh remains. He's trying to convince himself for his own sake, Mako knows, because the firebender can smell his brother's flesh burning, and even though he tries vainly to hide the damage, the blood is starting to turn a puss-filled yellow color, and he can't believe his brother hasn't gone into shock yet from fucking lava burns, and all Mako can really do is tentatively support him. Maybe, he thinks, that's all he's ever been able to do._

_He should have protected him._

_"H-hey, Mako..." Mako glances down at him. His green eyes are starting to turn glassy, and Mako's worry immediately spikes ten-fold. Almost instinctively, he starts bending down to pick him up, to catch him when he inevitably stumbles, because no way is Bo going to be able to walk pretty soon, but the earthbender is reluctant, "W-what do y-ou...think? The ladies'll say I'm h-hot now...or what?" And he swallows so tight that he grimaces, "H-hot as lava..."_

_And it pains Mako more than any stab of hunger to see his brother this way. He laughs, but really it's more for Bo's benefit because he feels like crying, and he's not really sure what to say, because for some dumb reason, Bolin has always seemed untouchable. Like he was better than the horrors of the world; like he was infinite, and so full of good that no bad could spoil him._

_"B-bet'cha I c-could...fight'em with-with one arm..." and an ugly groan crawls from his throat, causing Mako to snap his gaze down with an almost panic-filled kind of worry. Before Bolin can protest, he's kneeling down and putting his arms under Bolin's legs; bridle style. His good arm draped across his shoulder, careful not to hurt him more. "...tied behind m-my back..."_

_If the situation weren't so dire, Mako would make a teasing comment on how he feeds him too much because he's so grown so big._

_And Bolin would laugh._

_But he moans again._

_"Bo..._

_He would kill those bastards_

_"M-mako...S'tp. 'm fine..." He mutters, grimacing, as he attempts to budge out of Mako's hold and aimlessly pulls himself to his feet. And Mako actually has to stop running or he'll drop him-_

_"Bo- hey, stop-"_

_And his brother's eyes are so far away, it's like they're not even seeing him because gravity is too heavy and the world seems to be shattering, and before Bolin knows it, his head is banging hard against the concrete, black lurking so dangerously in the very corners of his vision that Mako is forced to rush forward, hands cupped delicately behind his head._

_"M'ko..." It comes out a whisper. "Hurts..."_

_Mako rubs his hair delicately for a moment, "Shhhhh...I know...I know... " he pleads to nobody in particular, "I'm gonna bring you some place s-safe o-okay?" And he hates it, but his breath hitches, "To heal you right up. Just-" and Mako bites back the tears, "Just hang on."_

_Bolin nods, ever so slightly, and closes his eyes. The last thing he remembers are Mako's familiar arms holding him tight and voices whispering his name like a prayer. He swims in a world of lights and the melody of beeping sounds and pain that ebbs beautifully._

_When he opens his eyes again, it's three weeks later, and he's in a hospital with Mako by his side. Half of him is gone._

_And even though everything's faded to nothing more than a dull ache, it still hurts either way._


	5. Fruits of Thy Labor

_Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swaps of the not quite, the not yet, and the not at all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists. It is real. It is possible. It is yours._

_-One Tree Hill_

* * *

And it's hard for him to accept the truth, to realize that nothing can ever be the same again. Not really, not when everything feels foreign and cruel, and some small part of him hopes that he'll wake up whole, like he's just been drowning in the harsh realities of a nightmare, but he's not stupid-hopeful maybe-, but not blind to the cruelty of the world, and he knows that his life is going to be consistently inconsistent from now on.

Even so, it's a hard pill for him to swallow.

And one faithful night, he wakes up and forgets for half a second that his world is balancing on toothpicks, and everything feels normal and right and how things have always been, but then he reaches for the light to the left of him, and feels nothing but

empty air

_Hey, Bo. How you holding up?_

_Oh, hey, Asami. I'm-fine. Just fine._

and blank space

and the weight of the night penetrating so deeply into his lungs that drowning in the stillness might just be possible. What a sight, he thinks, _choked to death by my own_ _subconscious_. And the tears flow like a leak in the sink, because everything is rusting to pieces around him and all he can really do is watch as his world floods.

_Bro? You still asleep? It's nearly noon._

_._

_No, he can't sleep with the pain in his stump like a ghost of an arm, invisible at his side. Nerves twitching; unresponsive. _

_'It's called Phantom Limb Pain, and it will take some getting used to.'_

Maybe that's why he decides to accompany Mako to a local store; insistent on life returning to normal, even if normal is just as unachievable as perfection, because if he can prove his ability to complete such a mundane task as

grocery shopping,

.

_I'm afraid his damaged chi will result in loss of bending. Perhaps permanently. In patients such a your brother, bending is rarely able to be achieved after the chi has been severed. It is quite a shame, indeed._

then maybe, just maybe, everything can be all right again.

It's wishful thinking, of course.

Because they couldn't have been browsing for more than five minutes before Bolin's forced attempt at

balance

fails

and his shoulder bumps into a large display of apples, and five of them fall like

little, red

bombs

to the ground. He sighs and stoops and tries to put them back onto the display, to fix the incomplete, hand wrapping snuggly around the fruit, but every time he tries putting one back into the stack, three more fall, and before he can help himself, he's panicking, reaching out blindly and grasping, and he can almost feel it, his left hand twisting and turning and working like it used to, safely securing the apples, but like a dream, his illusion is shattered by the sight of a dozen fruit passing through where his hand should have been.

_Mommy, what happened to that boy's arm? It's gone!_

_Shhh, honey._

And that's when his heart drops into his throat, beating like a drum, because this is the beginning of the end of normality as apple after apple falls like teardrops to the ground, and all he can really do is watch desperately as his life cracks like the edges of a mirror, and his knees buckle under unbearable sadness.

He should have known.

Because life was hard enough with two arms, and even on his best days, the threat of failure could have been enough to overwhelm, but now failure seems to be all he has left in him, and maybe he just isn't built to survive a world like this, maybe it would have been better for everyone if his arm had not been the only thing lost in that battle because death sounds lovely right about now.

He drags his eyes away from the fruit littering the area around him to see the way people had stopped to stare at the one-armed boy, the one slouched in defeat on the cold linoleum floor, nothing but pity in the depths of their eyes because even they can see him breaking, and he feels Mako's hand lay lightly on his shoulder, a pathetic attempt to patch together a cracked boy, before leaning over to retrieve the scattered fruit, but the damage is done, and the unhealable bruises are starting to darken across the surface of their thin skin.

And, "I'm so- sorry, Mako," he stutters because the shock is consuming and his face is burning with something akin to shame, "I didn't meant to-," his words are cut off by the sound of demanding footsteps.

"What the hell happened here," a boy not much older than Mako spits, body towering over Bolin like he knows where the upper hand lies and plans to use it. Bolin spits out a story about a lost arm and the color red and crying into his pillow because he's afraid of failing, of the world turning too fast and leaving him to stumble his way through the crowd of those left behind, but the boy is cruel and calculating, and he cares not for loss or pain or the way nothing will ever be the same.

He leans in real close to Bolin, close enough that his air tickles the cusp of Bolin's ear, "You can't honestly expect the world to change for you, boy, so either learn to use your one pathetic excuse for an arm, or you get out of my store and don't come back."

And maybe the Bolin from two months ago would have laughed in the man's face and reminded him that a customer is a customer, but now all he can really do is slump his shoulders forward and watch the floor and think about how right this man is, and he can feel Mako behind him, hands gripping the table hard, breathing coming fast and furious because _what right_ does a perfect stranger have to berate his baby brother?

"Back off," Mako warns in that voice that means business, dark and low like poison slicing the air as he steps wdangerously towards the man, "it's not his fault; this is new to us, too."

And Bolin wants to tell Mako to stop, because the man is right, because he is a burden to the city like this, and maybe it would be better if he just rolled up and never left the apartment, if his bones hung from his frame and the world forgot his name and everything just went on.

"Out," he man threatens, "I don't need cripples destroying my merchandise."

And Mako is on the verge of breaking, eyes wide, arms tense, fists shaking in barely-controlled anger, "We'd rather take our business elsewhere, anyways."

And then Mako's pulling him gently to his feet, and leading him away, away from the eyes and snarls and pity that burns him to the core, making sure to elbow roughly past the man who was right, the man who reminded him how unfit he is function in the real world.

They go home without getting groceries, and Mako says something about not listening, that people have no idea what they're talking about.

_Because you matter so much to everyone, Bo; can't you see that?_

But Mako's lying, because if he mattered that much, they- Asami, Korra and Mako -would see that he's useless, that he's broken beyond perceivable repair, but Mako is too blinded by love to see that, too devoted mentally and physically to his baby brother.

_But eventually he'll realize_, Bolin thinks,_ eventually he'll see me for what I really am._

Shattered.

* * *

_..._

_Hey everyone! Sooo...I know I promised to do more on Korra and Zaheer and canon...and this really turned in to Bolin, didn't it? Sorry about that._

_But really, I need to do a Korra recovery fic with Mako soon, and that;s gotta be the next chappie. I really need to practice writing Korra and I've been holding off because I've been afraid. But makorra shall come soon, have no fear._

_*beats self over head because that's what I've been saying for every chapter now.* _

_Also, for those of you who left favorites and follows, please, please leave a review. Reviews mean so much to me because I really need to know what you think._

_Thanks, everyone._


	6. Disorder

_Korra- Post book 3 recovery. This chapter is a separate fic I made called 'Disorder' but I also put it in here, because I thought it fit, and it needed some Korra in here. ;)_

* * *

_._

_Let go._

_._

Meelo's birthday comes a week after Jinora's ceremony, and it comes very much against Korra's will. She is not interested in the celebration, or the presents, and could care less about any part of it. She pleads tiredness, but the guilt she feels after every sigh and _'Okay, then, just rest' _forces her to wheel herself out of her room, to the ever overwhelming shock and gratitude of her loved ones.

.

_The world doesn't need you, Korra. _

_._

_They don't need you. _

_._

_They just feel sorry for you._

_._

Even so, she wishes she were anywhere else. The noise makes her (now frequent) headaches worse, and she just doesn't have the energy to be cheery, no matter how much laugher and cake hang in the air. She does not want to socialize. She wants to stay in her room and be left alone. She wants to lay in her bed, so she doesn't have to try and use her betraying muscles; because one face plant to the floor, immobile and prone on the cold wood, was enough humiliation for her lifetime. (She is sure to have a fear of beds and masks all things mechanical in her next life). Autumn has come now to Republic City, and when it's cold like this- _cold from within_- it's hard to breathe, much less concentrate hard enough on the scratchy, tendon-ripping sound of mauled wrapping paper.

Wind howls outside, carrying the leaves in its wake, and despite being from the South Pole, Korra can't believe how cold it is. She keeps asking Tenzin what the temperature is, but he always says the same answer, and her body never stops shivering. He always lies to her and tells her it's warmer than it has to be. But still, she's always broken out in a cold sweat, no matter how much her teeth chatter...

And she knows why. Because the poison just didn't seep its oily, hellish trendless into her body- but into her _mind_, into her _soul._ It's a bitterness so strong, it's like it's _growing_ inside her. And, she with how much her body hurts, would expect her spirit to feel something-_anything._

It's funny how sharp emptiness feels like. Like an invisible weight just getting heavier with each breath...

_._

_How could they love a broken girl?_

_._

_Look at you._

_._

_Pathetic._

_._

_You weren't meant to be born._

.

And a balloon pops, and she jumps in her chair, and has to take deep breaths until she feels the familiar warmth of Asami's hand on her shoulder.

She tells Asami she's fine, and wheels herself over closer to the kids and the birthday boy. If the others have noticed how many blankets she has draped over shoulders, or how violently she shivers, they don't say anything to her. This is Meelo's day, after all. _Stop being so selfish,_ _Korra_, she chides herself,_ it's not all about you._ Meelo is squealing about some new toy, and Korra feels something pulling at the corners of her lips. Somewhere in between gift number four, and Jinora giggling into Kai's ear, does she start to drip away. The edges of the room are blurring around her like a black fog and ash fills her nose.

There is something-_someone-_ lurking in the corner by Pema, staring into her soul, and she can't force herself to look away. The wind picks up around her, and nips at her face. Her hair is in snarls, little Dark Spirits nipping at the strands with their yellow teeth, and her limbs are being weighed down by chains. She tries to scream, but her mouth is sewn shut, and that someone is still in the corner, their eyes like glowing lights in the shadows.

_._

_Let go, Korra._

_. _

_Let go_

_._

Everyone else carries on with what they are doing. _Can't they see? Don't they understand? _Another present that was almost forgotten it being carried out into the middle of the floor. It's huge, and angular. Korra's sure it's some kind of weapon to kill her with, because the someone in the corner starts laughing; the melody dripping like some bitter acid to the floor that swims to her feet and burns her flesh on contact.

And she screams, but no one hears her.

And _he_ comes out of his hiding place now, all with his greasy smile and philosophical stature; confident in his plan, because everyone is too preoccupied with cake and toys and _happiness_ to save her in this...this..._disorder._

_._

_The world doesn't need you, Korra._

_._

_They don't need you_

_._

_They just feel sorry for you_

_._

His hand comes up and caresses her face, and she wants to spit at him, but her lips have turned to blooded shreds under his tongue sucking on her. His teeth nips her ear, and trail down her jaw, until bruises form, and she swallows back a moan, as his hands travel down her waist to the underside of her shirt. His burning flesh meets the frostbite of her stomach and makes way to her chest. She whimpers when his fingers cup around her breasts.

His lips come to tickle her ear, his breath right in her eardrum.

"Let go, little girl."

And she's been reduced to a helpless, child, succumbed to her own daemons, and-

_"Korra!"_

Her name is being screamed in a voice she knows, but her world is dark; dark, and dank, and cold.

"_Korra, open your eyes!"_

And she does. She does what the voice tells her to, because she knows that voice. _Knows-_

And Asami's face is right in front of her, looking more devastated than the night her father turned on her. Behind her, everyone's faces- Tenzin, Lin, Pema, her parents, Bolin, the kids- all share shocked and horrified looks that make her feel like she's falling into a never-ending pit.

One pair of amber eyes, do not look at her, however. They are staring at the ground. She's sure that if they looked at her, she'd see something far too dangerous lurking in their depths. Something like hope.

"Korra, what is it, honey?" Oh, her mother. Her sweet, oblivious, good-hearted mother.

"Yeah," Jinora whispers. And Korra can't help but notice how tightly she is holding Kai's hands. "You were screaming really loud."

And she doesn't know how she does it, but she speaks. "I'm fine. Just tired is all."

No one in the room dares contradict that blatant lie.

She wheels herself to her room without another word. They let her go to bed early, and even though she knows this can't mean anything good, she can't work up the energy to care.

* * *

"Korra, you're scaring us," Pema whispers at breakfast a few days later. Korra blinks, and tries to force her fingers to firmly hold her chopsticks.

She's recently been released from bed rest and given the all clear for solid foods. She can even wheel herself now without Asami's help. Maybe they'll leave her alone as a reward.

"Sorry, I'm just sleepy. Katara says the poison's toxins induce insomnia." And it's the truth, so sue her. "And, I mean, I really haven't showered yet so I probably smell..."

"That's not what she means, Korra." Tenzin's voice is terrifyingly gentle. Like a polerbear-dog cub before they grow up. "And you know it."

Tenzin's voice annoys her for some reason. Why was everyone treating her like she was fragile? Was it too much for someone to yell at her? Why were they whispering like she was some baby that they had to hush to stay asleep?

She sits back in her wheelchair, and pinches her palm. Mako, Bolin, and Asami are all making a point of not looking at her, and she knows that they are all together in this.

"I know you are still feeling sick due to the whole...ordeal, and the poison. But you need to eat to gain your strength back." She's never hated Tenzin as much as she does in that moment.

_._

_He's lying, Korra._

_._

_You don't deserve to eat._

_._

_You're the worst Avatar ever._

_._

"I know," she explains. "But I've just been nauseous. The poison-"

"-You have to try," Tenzin cuts in. "For us?"

She swallows when she feels the shame heat her face. "I'm just not hungry." Her words come out too fast. "I can't eat right now. I need time." She stares into her lap.

Spirits, why were they bringing this up in front of her friends? Couldn't Tenzin and Pema have talked to her privately about this?

"I'll save it for later."

She glances at all of them now to see their reactions. Mako is the only one to hold her gaze, and she can hear him thinking_ I don't believe you._

Too bad. If he wants to argue- if he cared enough to say anything- he'll have to shout.

_._

_He never loved you_

_._

"I know." She mumbles.

"What was that, Korra?" Tenzin asks.

"Nothing." Her voice is monotone. Why was talking to damn _exhausting?_

Sickening silence passes.

"You've lost a lot of weight, though, since everything happened," Asami gives her two-cents. Korra can see her friend choosing her words carefully.

Bolin nods. "We just want you to get better as soon as possible." He flashes a smile that does not meet his eyes. "You know, the old Korra."

And she stops and looks up then, her neck nearly snapping. If she closes her eyes, she can see the Spirits floating around, and the landscape changing with every thought, in the Spirtual World. He is sitting cross-legged right in front of her like a Tyrant; talking down cities on his command, socking the sky in blood.

.

_New growth cannot flourish without first destruction of the old_

_._

"Shut up!" She snaps, and Bolin looks like a wounded pup. The others stare at her with open mouths.

"Korra..." Tenzin starts.

She starts turning her wheelchair around. "This is pointless. I'm going to bed." And even though it's not even ten in the morning, they let her. She locks the door, and screams into her pillow and cries for no reason she understands.

_._

_Let go_

_._

Hours pass-or, maybe days; she can't be sure- and there is a knock on her door.

Two loud, and one silent. She knows who the person is before they even speak.

Her voice is without emotion. "Go away, Mako. Please."

She hears the door open anyway, and his familiar hand is on her shoulder before she can even blink.

And Korra just wants them all to leave her alone. Leave her alone to the voices in her head, and to be left in a world that no longer needs her. She should have known he would be knocking at her door, eventually. It was only a matter of time.

"Korra..." _Damn him._

"Please, just go away..."

"We both know I'm not going to do that, Korra."

* * *

_Soooo...took a shot at writing Korra. Hopefully it sufficed. Let me know what you think and if I should continue._

.


	7. Catonic

Korra- part two of 'Disorder'

* * *

_And now the thunder breaks and lighting strikes the land where only those who listen lay. No, they are together/ one. His bed is memorizing the shape of their bodies, the heat sticking the sheets together. Their breathes are making his mind dizzy, and her body's pressed against him like a cocoon. Her sweaty face looms above him, begging for him. He presses his lips into her's, gentle at first, afraid to break her( but this is Korra, and pity the fool who dares to call her anything but unyielding) then more firm when she grumbles low in her throat. She pushes into him, and a wonderful heat flushes his body. One of her hands is on his chest, right above his heart, and the other is tangled in his hair, scraping his scalp, holding him in place. He feels like an animal in a cage for all the wrong reasons.. She smirks, his lips two cherries parting to show her curious tongue._

_Because she rather him show and not tell her, 'iloveyou', he shows her. He does. Korra never liked empty promises, anyway. It was in the little things that she found him._

_His hands (for once he is unashamed of them) are on her slim, but firm waist and she squirms slightly as his fingers glide up and down her hips. He pulls back slightly, afraid._

_"Tickles." She moans. "More."_

_And spirits, even though she can barely see his face in the dark, she must know what she does to him. Just one 'okay' and she gives him all that she is._

_He snorts and works his way under the uncharted territory of her shirt, feeling the soft flesh of her breasts. He looks up for a moment, as if to ask, 'is this okay?' She just nods and closes her eyes, letting him explore her._

_A part of him is afraid to hurt her, but-_

_"Mako..."_

_But she's looking at him now, and how can he possibly deny her like this? How can he force her away when she needs him, and they've never been so sure?_

_"I want this." she hisses, like everything she says are words from the mouth of a goddess, and he most obey. And they are. He is. "Go there with me."_

_"Spirits, Korra..." He breathes in, and let's himself go. If she could hear how breathless she's making him, she'd smirk even more. He aware he's gone hard, and doesn't give a damn. Weeks ago, he'd have blushed and been a spluttering mess of gibberish after blowing raspberries on her stomach and hearing her giggles. Months ago, he'd have been too embarrassed to even touch a girl that way, let alone look at anywhere but her face. Now, he just doesn't want to lose this moment, lose her. His hands find smooth, flesh. He thinks how two such prominent, strong, life-giving wonders, can be so soft and sooth at the touch. As if their tenderness is a shield of some sort, and he is finally let in. He cups them both, smoothing his thumb over her nipples and she gasps in delight. She presses her mouth into his, like she's trying to steal his soul. Their tongues play for a bit, a game of cat and mouse, before she nips his ear, and he hisses. She kisses him on the neck, the jaw, his chest, making him as her own, as each other._

_Korra finds quickly that sometimes love is loudest to the one's gone quiet. That 'Iloveyou's' mean little if they have nothing to back it up. And here, in her bed, with his sweat mixing in with his own, her ear is pressed to his heart and she thinks, _yes, yes, I know, I love you, too.

_She kisses him harder and lets her right leg cross over his, his left finding a spot between her warm thighs as he realizes, somehow for the first time, just how little there was between them. In the scattered moments they'd had alone like this, they had developed a kind of protocol. It involved kissing, which led to hands slowly, but hungrily, making their way under clothes. From time to time, one of them would blaze a trail to new patches of unexplored flesh, and they would add that to the list._

_And he breathes, and his heart thumps. And Korra just listens. It's a lullaby for the broken, a melody for the otherwise unable to find the truth._

_"Promise to never leave me..."_

_"I promise."_

* * *

{What do _I_ want? The answer to that question does not exist.} ― Laurie Halse Anderson, _Wintergirls _

* * *

Once upon a time, there were things in Korra's life that made her feel safe.

Granted, before coming to Republic City, she was never threatened because the world did not know about her yet. Being in a secluded (prison) compound with highly trained guards around every corner, gave little reason for fear. And, growing up in the South Pole, your community was your home. Korra couldn't count the nights she lay out in the snowy tundra with Katara, them both gazing at the starts and just...talking. About anything, really. And all the newest, coolest bending moves she could show her Mentor; Katara was Korra's go-to for comfort. And her parents- when she was allowed to see them, that is- her mother would make her favorite cocoa, and wash her hair with scented oils. Dad took her fishing and hunting, and always gave her the best part of the meat. It made her feel as normal as she could get, being the Avatar.

But, here, in Republic City, you look out for yourself. No one knows what community means, let alone what blood runs through their veins.

Though she never once doubted her mentor's intuition, a part of her wished Katara had been wrong when she had told her that her 'Destiny was in Republic City.' If this was her destiny- her fate to be the worst Avatar ever- well then, maybe it was time for a new Avatar.

Or maybe none at all.

_Stop that,_ she yells at herself for the thousandth time that night, _that won't get you anywhere. _But her nails are bitten down to the skin, her eyes feel so heavy as black dots pop and fade against her vision. Maybe she's dying, but very slowly. If she breathes in too deep, her chest may collide with her ribs and crush all her insides to dust and ooze her guts out from her pores until there is nothing left of her except The-Avatar-That-Never-Was.

_._

_Stressed. Needs time. Poison. Depression. Post Traumatic Stress. Anorexia. Pain._

_._

And they all mean the same thing. No matter how you look at it, it's clear to her that she's royally fucked up.

"Korra. Korra, you need to eat."

And maybe, maybe she will leave landmines in her wake when she finally collapses on herself, because she's pretty sure she isn't supposed to be shaking this much. And maybe these tremors in her arms are the start of the fuse, and when she counts to ten she will explode all over the world, in Every-Nation-at-Once-

_"Korra."_

_-and does she want to die from in the inside out, or the outside in?_

"Damn it, Korra, look at me!"

And her neck snaps in half as her gaze meets fierce amber eyes. They are too bright, like the sun. She blinks. He's too fierce, too bright, too mad. Water trickles from her eyes like a broken faucet. She hears him sigh, and his face noticeably softens as he puts his hands up to her face to patch the leak. "Korra, like it or not, I'm not going anywhere. We don't have to talk, okay?" His voice is soft now, but something else lurks beneath it that he dare not let show. Fear? Worry?

As if he's really worried about her. No one was worried for her sake; they just wanted the Avatar to grow some balls and save them again.

"-But...I'd like to, if that's alright." he continues, with a squeeze of her hand. It's soft, like snow, but warm like flowers heated by the sun. She is torn; torn between showing how much she needs him, and giving in when she knows he really only feels sorry for her. And how could he not? She's-

.

_Pathetic._

_._

_A coward_

_._

_The World's Worst Avatar. You should just let the Earth Kingdom have it's turn._

_._

"No!" she chokes out, and her hands start their neurotic shake again. She is here. Not in the cave. She is/here/ in her room with Mako, and _one, two, three, f-_

"Korra, what's wrong?"

She has to count. Has to count the individual hairs in her pelt to make sure she's real. Because the doubt is always lingering; the doubt that this is all the poison's work, that this is all a messed up lie and she's still stuck there in that hellwhole-

His warm hands are shaking her shoulders, numbing the dark edges of her mind, making her vision clear again.

"You with me, Kor?"

"Eight."

Mako's eyes search hers for something only she can see. She nods, slightly, her head bobbing like a child's; too big for her broken body. "Y-yeah."

And they yell at her, and pity her. Fake Smiles for the girl who Did It All, because she can't see what they see. Nobody can explain to her why her eyes have started to work different than theirs. Nobody can make it stop.

And, Spirit, does she want it to-

"Make what stop?"

She jumps in her chair.

"Huh?" His hand gripes hers, a desperate attempt to keep her in the _here _and _now. A_nd if he's just a replica of the poison, some hellish hallucination, then she'd gladly die by kissing his poisen-laden lips until there was nothing inside her throat but his ashy-blackness to kill her slowly and drown her insides up. She'd relive this moment a thousand times over, having the last thing she sees are his amber eyes slowly turning to ink as her torturers laugh from below.

Yes, to both be made whole, and die from him, would be cruelly ironic, beautifully tragic, and a blessing she can only pray for.

Her face is being cupped in his hands; soft, yet callused, warm. No inky black tentacles or flesh-eating lava. And wetness is starting to form in the corners of his eyes. His voice is almost a whisper. "What can't you stop?"

Her breath hitches and fire bubbles up from her stomach. She contemplates denying it, because her weakness is sure to make Zaheer and them roll around with glee, and wherever they are hiding, they are sure to spit this back in her face later.

"Promise you won't tell them." She says.

"I swear." His face pinches. His Adam's apple bob's as he swallows hard. "It's just between you and me." And Korra pinches her palm in her fingers because he doesn't even know what he's promising when _them_ to her, is a different _them_ to him. Spirits, the four of them were probably already laughing at her, and telling the world how weak she was. "Lin and Tenzin and everyone, won't know, okay?"

"O-okay," And her voice is shakier than she'd like, but she has to tell him. He has to know. "I-I can't stop...it."

She looks at him, and he nods, slowly, eyes locked on hers. It takes Korra a moment for her to realize that he's waiting for her to continue.

"I can't stop...it. This. Life. Everything." She bites her lips, and her tongue comes back with copper. His eyebrows raise up and crinkle. "A-and the voices..."

Spirits, she sounded crazy. She was wrong. This was too much. They were going to send her away and dope her up and never let her see the light of day again.

"What kinds of voices?" His voice is low and something dangerous lurks beneath it.

She shakes her head. She can't. She's gone too far.

"I'm tired." She moans. And, really, she is _exhausted._ Exhausted from _living._ And they are all liars, every last one of them. _It's going to be okay, Korra. _And,_ You'll be fine, you just need some rest_. And,_ it's going to get better_. Because the fact of the matter is, that is doesn't get better. They don't know, they don't understand. There is no magic cure, no making it all go away forever.

_(There are only small steps upward; an easier day, an unexpected laugh, a mirror that doesn't matter anymore.)_

_._

_You'll see, you'll see._

But when will it be her turn? When does it get fucking BETTER FOR HER?

He strokes her chin. "What voices? Zaheer?" And she flinches away at that...that _word_ like some kind of evil. And she can see him cursing himself mentally and instantly backtracking to somehow start over. She snaps her hands out of his grasp, wincing at the pain the it brings her, and bites her lip.

They both stare at each other. Silence cuts the air like a bitter knife. The clock on the wall strikes the hour.

When he next speaks, his fists are clenched, trembling at his sides, and his eyes look at her more intense than any Past Life.

_"Them?"_ He whispers. And she knows he's got the correct ones, now.

She shivers._ "Them."_

And then she's collapsed on the floor, in heaving sobs, and his arms are wrapping around her tight, protective.

_"I'm so sick of this!"_

.

And she explodes.

* * *

***ahem* Well, wow...I can't thank you guys enough for everyone who reviewed and followed and favorite! I never expected this story to be so well liked, so for all you guys, I am continuing to make this...well, let's just say a lot of chapters for right now. **

**I only ask for those who favorite and followed, that if you did not review, please, please review. They mean so much to me and I really need to know what you guys think.**

**Sooo...hope this one was good enough, and hopefully with update soon. :) Thanks everyone!**


	8. Live Dying, Or Die Trying

**A big thank you to **_'_Yatoshrine'** for writing the/and helping me with the majority of this chapter. Your ideas and help are always appreciated.**

* * *

He knows he shouldn't be out; not as this hour, not in this part of town. Knows that the streets are dangerous for a one-armed boy-_for anyone-_ at this time of night, but he can't help but be drawn towards the solace of the moon, and the way the trains sing a somber song in the stillness of the night as he weaves between back alleys and abandoned streets. And even though he tries some days to forget his past, the alleyways have become a part of him that he can't seem to shake, so he often finds himself sneaking out the front door, tip-toeing past a snoring Mako who's far too easy to wake-now more than ever-and disappearing into the inky darkness.

And walks.

It's only around seven in the evening now- far earlier than his usual middle of the night/early morning sneakaways-but he can't help it. He walks until his feet are tired and his arm is burning, and everything feels like nothing more than a vivid dream. And, really, this is how he likes it: likes the way reality blurs and his arm tingles like maybe, _just maybe_, it'll still be there when he looks down. But it's nothing more than a bitter lie, he knows. Yet, he's a desperate man, and if lying to himself helps, then maybe, just maybe, lies aren't so bad. And, honestly, he wasn't just aimlessly wandering the streets_ this_ time. He had had a goal, got what he needed, and was going to be on his merry way after a nice walk around town. ( It didn't sound so desperately pathetic when he put it like that.) He only turns back when the moon starts to glow, and the smells of just-finished dinner start to fade away, and the sky is bruised with moments of husky blue. And really, he would have made it home before Mako ever noticed he was gone, before his brother was even back from his work...but his luck has been slim lately, and just as he rounds the corner of one of the dimmer alleyways, fate finds him.

"I said leave me alone, Huang!"

Bolin's head jerks toward the distressed voice and he stops midstep to glance across the street, feeling his hackles rise. The light from the setting sun is hidden behind the buildings and no one's bothered to light the lanterns on this street, leaving it dim and mostly deserted of people. There's a couple loitering in front of a questionable-looking smoke shop and Bolin recognizes their thuggish type immediately. He used to be one of them, after all. The girl is trying to push the well-muscled guy away from her, but he's got a good forty pounds on her at least and his grip on her waist is too tight.

"Come on, Fen!" they guy whines, "Just a little smooch! I did buy you those earrings, remember?" The guy-Huang, apparently- tightens his grip and pulls her closer.

The girl flinches and pushes away at him uselessly. "Ouch! H-Huang!" she tries to hide it, but her voice comes out shaky and it's obvious she's scared "Y-you're hurting me! Let go!"

Bolin freezes, unsure of himself. Not too long ago, he wouldn't have hesitated-but things are different now._ He's_ different now. He's a half-Bolin broken shell of what he was before, and he's next to useless just getting _groceries_, let alone in a fight.

Bolin had known it was a dumb idea to go out so late, especially considering his condition. But he'd run out of medicine, Mako was out working, and he'd been in a lot of pain. The relentless Phantom Pain, and lack of sleeping, did not make a happy Bolin for anybody. Besides, he was tired of other people doing things for him. He wanted to at least be able to get his own prescription medicine for himself; no one needed to be bothered by him whining about it all, so he kept it to himself, as always. And maybe it was stupid of him to think so, but he'd thought he was home free now that he had the medicine tucked safely into his pocket, and was on his way home. All he wanted was to pop in some pills with his tea, and get a much overdo night's rest without everyone- his brother, especially- smothering him.

He should've known better.

He glances up and down the street, willing someone - _anyone_ - to come in and help, but the few people he does see are suddenly very interested in studying the ground in front of them. This guy obviously has some sort of reputation around here.

It looks like no one's going to help this girl unless Bolin does something about it. Swallowing hard, Bolin opens his mouth and speaks, "Leave her alone."

Nothing happens. The thug doesn't even glance his way, just pulls the girl's mouth to his and jams their lips together while she squirms. A sudden, white-hot flair of anger burns through Bolin and the scene before him crystallizes into jagged reality. With a clarity he hadn't had until then, Bolin realizes that he doesn't care what happens to himself, he just wants to make this guy _hurt._

Images of his childhood come flooding back against his vision: girls with hallowed-out eyes, crumpled in alleyways. Men's greasy fingers curling around them, and pressed to their flesh. The girls so young themselves, and their stomachs- which should be thin and frail from hunger- plump and getting bigger by the day. Babies, left abandoned, wailing into the night.

Bolin saw it happen too many times. He wasn't about to let it happen again.

"I said," Bolin grinds out, voice hard and unforgiving as iron, "Leave. Her. _Alone."_

This time, the guy takes notice. His head whipping up toward Bolin, and his eyes narrowing. "Hey, why don't you mind your own business?" He says, his tone dangerous. It's nothing compared to the look in Bolin's eyes though, the look of someone who's past caring.

"I'm making this my business." Bolin says, and he takes a step closer to Huang.

Bolin has Huang's full attention now, and he studies Bolin intently as he says, "Oh yeah? And what do you think you're going to do about it?"

"Why don't you come over here and find out?" Bolin asks. Huang's face goes slack-jawed, like no one's ever talked to him like that before, and his grip on Fen loosens. She takes the opportunity to yank herself out of his grasp, and flee down the street. Huang barely seems to notice though, his whole body quivering with barely checked rage.

"Oh, you're gonna _wish_ you hadn't said that." Huang says and lunges at Bolin.

The fight- if it can even be called that- is short, brutal, and seems to go by in blur. Bolin manages to dodge Huang's first punch, and return with one clumsy swing of his own. Huang easily deflects it with his free hand, though, and brings his other arm around in a right hook that connects squarely with Bolin's jaw. Bolin actually catches air before he lands in twisted heap on his side, directly onto his already throbbing missing limb. He feels something tear- a sickening sound like no other-and his whole world erupts in a searing flare of pure agony.

For one long moment, he can't breathe and nothing exists but this overpowering pain and his straining lungs. Finally, his head clears enough for him to become aware of his own wheezing as he struggles for air. He's only slightly aware of the fetid water seeping into the clothing on his side, and the hard stone against his face. He must've landed in a puddle or something. He's dimly aware of the crimson color pooling around him.

Bolin looks up to see Huang standing over him with a look of disgust on his face. "Pathetic." He spits out with a shake of his head. "Can't believe I took you seriously for a second there. A freaking cripple for crying out loud! You aren't even worth my time." With that, Huang kicks Bolin hard in the stomach, punching the air out of his lungs yet again, and sending Bolin into a wheezing, coughing fit that wracks his entire body.

The last thing Bolin remembers before he's consumed by black is an ugly smirk and the color red.

.

..

.

By the time Bolin manages to come to, and get some of his breath back, Huang's nowhere in sight. After laying there for a few more pathetic moments, and two failed attempts at getting to his feet, he manages to stand.

It's much later now and the sun has set, leaving Republic City in pitch blackness if not for the lanterns that line the streets. Luckily, the path to the Air Temple entrance is well-lit. He has to use the lantern poles for support, but he makes his way slowly, but surely, toward the steps leading up into the building.

His legs are trembling now with the effort it takes to remain upright, and his entire body feels weak. His clothes are still cold and damp from the foul-smelling water he'd landed in earlier, but he can feel hot blood slipping languidly down his side from his torn stitches, staining his clothes. He shivers as a slight breeze lifts his sweaty bangs from his face, and wraps his arm around himself as tight as he can. He knows that's not a good sign, seeing as it's been warm out, but all he can think about is putting one- foot-in-front-of-the-other, _(Gotta get there. Gotta get there...) _and doing his best to ignore the insistent throbbing that feels like it's spread through his entire body now.

He's made it to the open archway of the entrance, when he misses a step and pitches over to land face-down on the ground like a sack. He knows he needs to_ move_, to get up and go to his room to lie down, but the blood keeps oozing out in a sticky mess, and he can't seem to remember why any of it _matters anymore_, crippled and useless as he is. He can't even find the energy within himself to crawl out the way, so no one will trip over his worthless form.

He can't do this.

Not anymore. He knows that's weak of him, but he doesn't care. He hopes desperately that they won't find him until tomorrow morning, and that it'll be too late by then. That way, it won't be his fault when he dies and he'll have kept his promise.

_Because I deserve this._

_._

_And I am weak because let's face it, the world doesn't need another lost soul._

_._

_And please just let this be the end._

_._

_And everything is wrong because he hadn't planned on dying tonight. _

_Or, at least, a part of him had._

_.._

_But really who is he kidding, he's useless anyways._

_._

_So he lets his body slump into the floor and sleeps._

_._

He's still laid out, body shivering uncontrollably now and slipping further and further from awareness, when he becomes distantly aware of footsteps approaching from behind him.

"Bolin?" Mako's voice sounds like it's coming through twenty feet of water, "Bolin!?"

Bolin feels strong hands turn him over and sees Mako's terrified expression through bleary eyes. He wants to tell Mako to _please leave him alone and let him go, that it really_ _is pointless,_ but his teeth are chattering too much now, and his voice won't work right. None of him is. Even his vision is starting to grow black around the edges.

Bolin feels something warm covering him and realizes Mako no longer has his coat on. He wonders briefly when his brother had done that. Suddenly, he's being lifted up and Mako's shouting something, but he can't hear him because the movement sends another wave of agony from his stump. He'd scream if he could, but all he can do is slip in to beautiful, merciful darkness...

...

Mako lifts Bolin, his heart in his throat, Asami at his brother's feet. Asami had come running almost instantly at his call, followed shortly by Tenzin. They'd dragged Bolin straight to one of the air bison, Tenzin taking the reins while Mako and Asami settled Bolin's limp form in the saddle. The whole ride seemed to last endless years. Mako hadn't managed to stir any sign of consciousness from Bolin the whole way to the hospital they were at now.

There's blood (too much of it, and still coming) on Mako's arm where he's supporting Bolin's upper body, and Mako feels like a lead weight's been dropped in the pit of his stomach. Bolin's face already looks like a corpse's and the only sign that he's not one is the constant tremors that run through his body. It feels like the night they'd lost their parents all over again, seeing the life go out of the one you loved right before your eyes. Mako slams that train of thought to a_ screeching halt_, though. He knows he's got to keep it together. He repeats the words like a mantra in his head: Keep it together. _Keep it together._

Keep/it/together.

For Bolin.

He hopes the trembling in his hands isn't too obvious.

Tenzin summons the hospital staff to their aid almost as soon as they burst through the doors. Bolin's whisked onto a wheeled gurney and rushed to an emergency treatment room, Mako dodging their heels the entire time. They set to work on his brother, their voices strained and succinct, communicating only the bare minimum needed to get the job done. They're working, but Mako can see by the way they're looking at his brother that they don't think he has much of a chance. It takes all the self control he has to keep himself from charging in to help, but he does because he knows he'll only get in the way.

"He's running a fever."

"Wound shows signs of infection."

Their words a like a faint buzz in the background, until something one of them says grabs his attention.

"He's lost a lot of blood," they say as they work quickly, but carefully, to clean the area around the torn stitches.

"Too much," another says, leveling a look at the Doctor in charge, whose hands are glowing blue with healing water.

"We need a blood transfusion," she says, not taking her eyes off her work.

"We used the last of our supply already," the worried-looking nurse says.

The doctor looks up, then, her eyes tense but her voice level, "Then we'll have to use a live donor." The nurse's eyes widen. "Now." the doctor urges.

"But who...?" The nurse sputters.

"Use me." Mako says before the nurse can waste more time.

Mako watches as the nurse almost jumps, as if she hadn't realized he'd even been there, but she manages to stop herself. "Are you sure you-?" She asks him but he cuts her off.

"I don't care," Mako says impatiently, "If it'll save his life, I'll do it."

The nurse hesitates momentarily before nodding and taking his arm. They don't have a lot of time. "Okay, come over here with me."

She has him sit in a chair next to his brother, and she's quickly prepping his arm while the other nurse preps his brother's. Mako doesn't even feel as they slide the needle into his vein; all of his attention focused on the way his brother's lips are turning grey and the rise and fall of his chest is growing shallower. One of the nurses expertly places an oxygen mask over Bolin's face. Though Mako _does_ notice when he sees his own blood being pumped into his brother's vein, wishing it would move faster. Mako isn't aware of the heat draining from his own body as he sits by his brother's side, hands still trembling. _Keep/ it/ together_. He hopes with everything he has that this isn't the last he'll see of his brother alive.

...

.

_And it's a good thing you got him here when you did._

.

_If it gets infected like that again, I can't promise anything_.

.

_Depression can do that kind of thing, it's relentless like that._

.

_Keep a better eye on him._

.

..

The first day is the three of them waiting, sitting on the hard chairs, not daring to look at each other. The beeping of the monitors are the only noise in the sickening silence.

.

..

The second day, Bolin's fever decides to screw the antibiotics and spike up three more degrees. His brother's skin becomes a red, drenched mess, buttons and monitors doing a neurotic dance that the Doctor and nurses fight to keep up with. Mako is forced to stay out of the room, battling his own personal heart attack.

Mako prays to the Spirits, for the first time in two years.

..

.

The third day, twenty-four hours later, the fever looses its hellish, black claws on his brother, and the Doctors give him more blood and medicine and all kinds of crap that doesn't seem to be making a hell of a difference. Mako swears he heard a moan coming from his brother's lips, but Asami tells him that he needs to go home and rest. He yells that she doesn't understand, and stomps away down the hall.

.

..

The forth day comes with the delicate cruelty of a baby's first fall. The doctors say that, while his fever did break, Bolin's body still isn't replenishing blood as fast as they'd like, and the antibiotics are on a losing streak. They say it's really all up to Bolin now.

Mako imagines what Bolin's funeral might be like.

He goes to the Temple room in the hospital and begs to his parent's faces that he can no longer picture. _He will not bury Bolin._ Bolin will bury him, when they're good and old, and wrinkly, and can't tell left from right anymore.

_He will not bury Bolin._

..

.

He'd rather not like to think about the fifth day. It's just better off that way.

.

...

.

.

...

When Bolin wakes, it's to the faint feeling of weight pinning his leg down. Every sensation feels distant, like he's floating just outside his body, not completely connected to it. Unfortunately, that same reprieve doesn't apply to his missing arm. Even though it's much less painful today, it still throbs with his heartbeat and it makes Bolin wish he could return back to oblivion.

Unfortunately, he isn't given that mercy. Not when the choice was to die, or lose his arm. Not now. He wonders who he has to thank this time around for waking up where he first started; in a hospital all bruised up and with still one less arm than he'd like. If he's remembering things right, he knows exactly who. Bolin hates himself for it, but he feels resentment, festering and ugly, build in his gut.

Why couldn't he just let him go?

Bolin finally opens his eyes, unable to sleep with the way his mind is roiling. He recognizes the shape slumped over at the foot of his bed immediately. Bolin wiggles his leg, the movement still weak, trying to move it out from under his brother. The motion manages to wake Mako, though, and he sits up ramrod straight in his chair, eyes bright with worry. When his eyes finally land on Bolin, though, his features soften with relief.

"Bolin...You're awake." He says, sounding like he can hardly believe it. He looks awful. Quite frankly, as shitty as Bolin feels. Mako's face is pale and there are dark shadows under his eyes like he hasn't slept in days. Instead of concern, Bolin feels a spike of anger. So stupid, Mako was, letting himself get like this for Bolin, who's useless anyway.

Bolin grunts noncommittally. His voice comes out tired and unhappy, "Yeah. I am."

Mako looks uncertain for a moment, and it's an expression that used to be so foreign on his brother's face until recently, that Bolin feels an uncomfortable twist in his gut. Under different circumstances, Bolin would apologize for being so short, but it's hard to stifle his resentment enough, and Mako quickly covers it up with a weak but sincere smile. "I'm glad. You hungry?" Mako asks, "I can get you something to eat."

Bolin's not hungry-his stomach feels like an acid pit, honestly- and the thought of food makes him nauseous, but he nods anyway. Anything to be alone, if only for a little bit. Mako looks slightly comforted by Bolin's apparent appetite and heads to the door. "I'll be right back," he says, then leaves.

It doesn't take Mako nearly as long as Bolin would've liked to return with the food. He has a tray balanced in his hands. It's simple fare, just a steaming bowl of thin soup and two small, sad-looking pieces of bread. Bolin doesn't think he reacts, but he must, because Mako suddenly looks apologetic, "Sorry. The doctors said you couldn't eat anything too heavy for now. But hey," he says with an encouraging smile as he sets the food on the bed table tray, "when you've recovered enough, I'll make you some seaweed noodles. Hot and fresh, just the way you like them."

All Bolin does is nod minutely in response, and he can see the way his brother's smile slips ever-so-slightly. The prospect of homemade seaweed noodles, which might have been enough to invigorate Bolin on any other day, is barely a blip on his radar now. He tries to stir something in himself, but it feels impossible. Mako takes a seat by Bolin's bed, and even though he stays still, Bolin can see the tightness in his shoulders and it's like he can feel his brother's nervous energy as though it's a tangible thing. Bolin grits his teeth and begins moving the spoon around in his soup, hoping his brother doesn't notice that he's not actually eating anything.

They sit in awkward silence, the tension thick and stifling, while Bolin picks at his food and Mako sits there, periodically looking up like he wants to say something, but never quite getting there. Finally, Bolin can't stand it anymore, and he drops his spoon into the bowl with a clatter that shatters the silence between them. "What?" he grinds out through clenched teeth.

Mako's eyebrows rise in surprise for a moment, before he smooths his features and opens his mouth to respond. He stops mid-breath though, like he's suddenly changed his mind about what he's going to say, and mutters, "You need to eat."

Of course Mako noticed. He always had been overbearing and overprotective. It shouldn't be, but the words are enough to send Bolin over the edge he'd been straddling precariously since he'd woken up. It's like a switch has gone off in his head and he's seeing red, unable to think straight. "Why don't you mind your own business for once?" Bolin spits out venomously.

If Mako had looked surprised before, he looks floored now, and Bolin's surprised and ashamed to feel a small bite of satisfaction at the sight. Maybe this is what it took to get his brother to see things straight. "Bolin...where's this coming from? I thought-"

"Thought what?" Bolin interrupts, "Thought that you could just take the reigns our entire lives and I'd be okay with it forever?"

"Bolin-" Mako tries, but Bolin's latched on desperately to his anger now and it drives him forward inexorably.

"No! You need to listen!" He says, "Did you ever stop to think? About how I feel?"

Mako looks appalled and concerned. "Bolin, stop. You-"

"You always do what you think is best! You never asked _me!"_

"Please, Bo-"

"When you found me, it probably never occurred to you that I-"

"Bolin!" Mako's shout reverberates around the room as he grips Bolin by his shoulders. Bolin hadn't even noticed him jump up from his chair. "You're going to reopen your stitches! Stop moving!"

Bolin suddenly stills. He'd been so livid, he hadn't even felt the pain flair in his arm, or the burning sensation as he spilled soup all over his front.

"Spirits," Mako breathes, giving Bolin a hard look, "What the hell is going on with you? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get yourself killed."

All the anger Bolin had been holding onto dissipates, and he loses his grip on it, left with nothing but a cold hard knot of despair in its wake. Bolin's voice comes out so quietly, he's not sure his brother can even hear, "Part of me wouldn't have cared if I did."

Mako's hands, which had been fussing over Bolin, suddenly still.

"...What?"

And the way Mako's eyes look up at him, make Bolin feel like a little kid. Because Mako never cries, at least, not since they were small. And Mako sure looks like he wants to cry now. He hears Mako's breath hitch in his throat, and the almost-tears quickly vanish.

"You heard me." Bolin tells him, looking right at Mako now. "I can't bend anymore, can barely hold anything anymore." Bolin turns his gaze to the floor. "Just like the guy said; cripples can't survive in the real world. I just..." And he sighs, big and tired. "don't really care anymore."

* * *

_Please review. A part two to this chapter, along with other chapters and characters, will be updated soon._


	9. Two leaves in the Wind

_Kainora: because I love those two and I could stand to do more fluff :)_

* * *

_._

The summer heat makes the air fill their lungs think and lazy, the humidity humming off the asphalt in waves. It's like an invisible fog that grows hotter with each breath; suffocating and transforming every pore on her skin into perspiration that she is sure is making her stink like a ostrich-horse by now. She going to get sunburn on her newly- bald head; her Tattoo shall be backed to a golden brown.

Yet, he is sitting there, leaning against Leftie and clearly content; eyes closed and gaze towered the sun, soaking it up. All with a beautiful look on his face, despite the beads of sweat dampening his hairline.

Jinora can't help but imagine what blue ink might do to his smooth skin...

He looks like a Sun Spirit, the way his skin glows with the rays of sun sparkling off his tanning skin. The way the muscles in his arms flex as he stretches them behind his head, entrance her more than they should.

She hopes she doesn't look like a dying hog-monkey the way she is panting and wiping her brow. It's the hottest summer in Republic City record, and she really envies Gran Gran at the moment. She's never felt so..._moist_...in all her life. Spirits, she just want's a cold shower and some leechi juice, and who's idea was it to sit in the middle of the park with no shade on a day that feels hotter than the inside of a _volcano_!?

_Kai's idea._ That's who. She should be reading under the nice, shaded balcony of the Temple, sipping Tea...

"You're unusually quiet," He says, eyes not even opening. "Either that's a new mediation stance, or something's up."

Jinora pouts. She had finally gotten her dad to let her leave the Island after the Air Nation kidnapping last month- and with_ Kai_ of all people. It was a miracle beyond words. She should be cheering, not whining like a child.

A sigh excapes her mouth. "I'm fine ..."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, I'm not," she exasperates, "How are you handleing this heat!? If I sweat anymore, I'll become a puddle!" She whines, trying to get her pants to stop morphing to her skin.

He cracks open an eye and smirks, "The wouldn't be good. I"m not a Waterbender-how would I bring you back home?"

She wackes him on the arm and a chuckle vibrates his throat, "I'm serious, Kai! I'm _dying_! Can you pretty please get me some leechi-juice? I'd love you forever!"

"Hmm...Leechi-juice," he weighs the options in his hands, "...or watch Jinora become a puddle? So hard to choose. Sorry, the sun's in my eyes! I can't see the juice stand-ahhh!"

Instantly, a wisp of wind gusts in his face and sends him spiraling with his back to the ground. He looks up to see an irritated Jinora twist wind around her fingers. A pout on her face says he better obey her wishes.

"Your mercilessness for those with shaved heads shall cost you dearly, pupil. It would prove you wise to obey your Master." She quips with a devilish smirk. Leftie gives a little bark of agreement. "But because I am your Master, I will show restraint."

Reaching a hand out to help her fallen prince back up proves costly; for when hands lock, a grin spreads up his face, and down she goes on top of him, faces inches apart. His back still on the ground, their stomachs touching, and he cups her face with his hands.

"I already love you forever." he whispers to her. It's words that Jinora think are a bit much for two preteens, but she's never doubted destiny before. His breath tickles her nose and she knows this is why she loves him.

Mouths join then; lips smoothing over each other, each heart beat like a sizzle of the sun, wrapping around them in the grass. His hair is over her face, and he laughs when he almost sneezes.

_Dear, Spirits, if Mom and Dad knew about this..._

"Hey, Jin?" His breath is like lilacs in the wind.

"Yes...?" She can't help but blush at how beautiful he is, just laying there underneath her. She knows she should feel embarrassed, because she is barely twelve, on top of her boyfriend in the park, and what kind of impression would that make? She is an Airbending _Master._ She must-

His lips curl up, "Do you have any idea how _hot_ you are?"

She can't help it, a girlish laughter comes from her. "Even for a puddle?" she asks.

"Let's find out!" is all he says.

Confusion knits her brows. She is about to question him. _Do all boys act this insane in the summer? _But before she has time to do anything, she is hoisted on her back by one of his strong arms. She feels her body being bumped up and down as he begins to run.

"Hang on!"

"What are you doing?" She yells with excitement and slight self-consciousness.

But then she hears the unmistakable sound of water splashing and she is falling into the lake with him, his laughter vibrating throughout the park.

He emerges the surface right in front of her, hair plastered to his head. He has the most silliest grin on his face that she thought she could only ever associate on someone like Meelo. For a sad little moment, she imagines this as one of the only few times in his life where he has had the chance to act this way: free, happy, uncaring, silly, young. It makes her a little sad to think about how he normally had to act in the past, all alone. How hard his life use to be and how she may be the only one who sees him for who he really is. But she is glad that she is the one who brings out this happiness.

He begins to splash water at her, and she feels her grin grow to match his.

"You're lucky I love you, you dork."

"Anything for you, Master."

"Oh, _hush!"_


	10. The Dogs Days are Over

_Part two of 'Live Dying or Die Trying' _AKA High!Bolin scene.

..

**This particular chappie is dedicated to my friend, and fellow fanfiction writer Boasamishipper "Boa" for all she has done for me. Thank you, Boa, and I hope you enjoy :)**

**..**

* * *

Bolin's words slam hard into Mako, feeling like lead weights and he can't stop his knee-jerk reaction, "Well_ I_ care."

Bolin looks up at Mako, his green eyes wavering. He looks back down as he says, "I don't...I don't know if that's enough."

"I already told you," Mako says instantly, "I'll just have to have enough hope for the both of us right now. I'll stay with you. Spend more time with you. I'm sure I could talk to Lin about taking some time off of work, and-"

"Mako." Bolin stops him. "I don't think you understand. I was-I actually feel...felt..._mad_ at you for saving me. I resented you. I think I almost h-" but Bolin can't seem to finish.

"You almost...hated me?" Mako finishes in a small voice. Mako feels like a tongue of a poisonous Shirshu is tearing at his chest, but he manages to keep his voice steady.

Bolin keeps his eyes fixed on Mako's, his expression somehow guilty and searching at the same time.

He nods like he doesn't trust his own voice.

Mako reaches over to place a comforting hand on Bolin's shoulder. "It's okay, Bolin. I don't care."

"Well, you should care!" Bolin shouts. "Y-you saved my _life_ and all I can do is think about how mad that makes me!"

"I still don't care." Mako says, surprising even himself with how calm he sounds.

"Why not?" Bolin asks, looking more lost than Mako's seen him look in a long time.

"Bolin, you can be mad at me, resent me, hell, even _hate_ me. I don't care. Really, I can handle whatever you throw at me," Mako holds Bolin's gaze, "Just please. _Please_ stay alive. I can't promise you everything is going to be sunshine and water butterflies, or that it will all be better, but you won't be able to find out unless you stay strong and hold out. And I know," Mako swallows thickly, his voice losing its force,"I know it might be a lot of I ask, but please believe me when I tell you I wouldn't ask you to do something I didn't think you could do."

The silence in the room is bitter and thick as the two brothers look at eachother. Finally after a few moments- too long for Mako's taste- Bolin blinks his watery eyes and nods slowly.

"Okay." His says quietly, "I'll try my best."

Mako refrains himself from crushing him in a huge hug that would only injure him further, and manages to gently wipe his brother's sweaty bangs from his forehead with an effectionate smile.

"That's all I need, little bro."

...

.

...

The rest of day goes fairly well, albeit a bit too slow for Mako's taste. He just wants his brother to return to his spunky, over-enthusiastic self, but Mako knows his brother will never be the same again, and it's wishing thinking-almost selfishly- on his part. So he settles for smiling through the his brother's grimaces and painful moans, giving petty reassurances when the antibiotics make his gut twist inside out and vomit for the third time in one hour, all while keeping a firm grip on his hand.

He soothes. Because that is what he was born to do.

_Remember when you were like a storm? When the earth fell to your whim, and you were just so undeniably alive?_

.

..

_I do._

Loosing over half his blood left Bolin too tired and weak to do much, and Mako sits by as Bolin spends the first day awake, bundled under the blankets, and nibbling on some bread and ginger ale. Mako tells Bolin some of his new one-liners he made up while he was in out cold, much to the responses of _'That's so cheesy'_ and _'you're such a dork'._

Bolin goes to sleep early that evening with pain written in the crease between his eyebrows and the clench of his teeth. By nine P.M, Korra and Asami drag him out of the room, and he somehow ends up with them in Asami's car, speeding down the bridge to the Air Temple. He's too tired to argue.

"You need to take care of yourself, too, Mako," Korra tells him with a hand on his shoulder that would normally be reassuring. "And a shower wouldn't hurt."

He sees Asami's smirk reflect back at him through the rearview mirror. It's the first time since that horribleness over five night's ago, that it hits him that he is still in his same white undershirt- now a bit dingy from sweat and looking like tin foil- and the stumble dusting his chin makes itself known. He rubs the stiff hair back and forth with his palm, and decides that a shower is a good thing. Bolin will be okay while he takes a shower.

Taking the bandage off the crook of his elbow where he gave Bolin blood, is another battle all together.

He closes his eyes and imagines eight-year-old Bolin and his tiny fists, moving his arms and watching the earth move with him for the very first time.

...

.

...

The next morning, the nurse checks Bolin's vitals and, and pulls Mako out of the room by the cuff of his sleeve. Her tired eyes look sincere, yet it's the painful truth that Mako does not want to hear at the moment, because, _so, how's he doing? He's getting better, right?_

The way her sigh escapes her mouth, and her eyes briefly flicker, makes his heart drop to his knees. She says that, while his fever is gone, he is still too dehydrated and has a risk of going into shock again if he continues to vomit up the antibiotics. Mako may need to give him more blood. They can't let him leave and get his stiches out until he gets better.

_It's only been three days,_ he reminds himself,_ Bo just needs time to heal_.

_But does he /want/ to?_

Mako wishes he knew the answer.

Sure, he'd be busy burying himself into his work at the precinct again, and even though he could easily let it consume him, ultimately, he wouldn't be able to not pay visits to check on his condition — even if Bolin was reluctant on it, and relentlessly insisting that Mako go spend his time elsewhere and not watch him stay in a bed.

Where his brother gets his stubbornness from, Mako has yet to find.

They listen to the pro-bending stats on the radio, and Bolin laughs and he manages to get a bowl of soup down without vomiting. Phantom Pain vanishes for a little while, numbed by the heat of Mako's hand in his, and the gentleness of Asami's stories, and the newspaper clippings that Korra cuts out. It's a reminder that the world continues on, and that the small world that they have created will wait for him until he's ready.

"Get well soon, Bo, okay?" Asami squeezes his knee, "I need my assistant back in action."

Bolin smiles, however, half-heartedly.

It is a good day.

...

.

...

_"Then I'll just have to have enough hope for the both of us. We'll take it day by day."_

There are good days, and there are bad days.

Mako fights for the good days, but it's Bolin that's always been the optimist.

The bad days come like a bitter sting on his palm that just won't go away:

_And he had a really bad night last night. His breathing got stained enough that we had to put him on the tube to help him. I don't think he slept much either._

_W-what can I do to help?_

_She sighs: You need to get him to eat._

And really, he should have seen it coming when the glassy-eyed nurse grabs him delicately by the cuff and pulls him into the hallway, her lips turned down in a scowl because _really there's nothing left to do for him, not until we get some food in his system and then maybe, just maybe, he can heal. He needs to fight the infection off, and get his strength back, or else we might as well cut the rest of him off..._

And it's not the thought of watching him wither away that hurts. Not the way he keeps vomiting, and gasping for breath, or how Mako can't protect him from the battle waging inside him. Because Mako stupidly had hoped that, once he actually woke up, that he'd be okay. They had stitched him, and he'd rest for a day or two, and then they'd be on there way. No. And that's not what hurts the most. It's the _maybes,_ (_we can try this; this medicine may work better for him_) and the _what-more-is-there-left-to-dos_, the fact that his baby brother's fate is hanging in the balance, so he nods his head in understanding at the nurse, and mumbles a quick promise. And after she's walked away, he holds his head in his hand and tries to numb the terror that threatens to drown him; because Bolin is all he has left in this world, and how can he not see that?

How can he be so blind?

Mako adjusts his collar and haphazardly, and pulls himself together before reentering the room and taking the seat closest to Bolin's bed. He is curled up and facing away from him, though Mako can tell he is awake. And how the tube is pressing against his nose and the IV pinches his arm, Mako imagines it can't be comfortable.

Mako waits a moment before speaking, his voice loud against the surrounding veil of silence. He prepares himself for a bad day.

_How are you feeling?_

_Fine._

_Are you hungry?_

_No._

_I'll get you something to eat._

He hears the way Bolin sighs, a low and angry hum. Hears the way his breath catches before he coughs, and his fingers tighten before he sits straight up, and looks Mako dead in the eye, as if his whole life has been leading up to this beautifully broken moment.

"What's the point? I'm just gonna puke it up again. Why are you even bothering, Mako?"

Mako grits his teeth and stands up. "Because it's my job, Bo. It's what family does." And he doesn't wait for a response as he goes out the door, and down the hall to retrieve his brother's small meal.

He comes back to a breathing tube with dragon's breath.

"Don't you have better things to waste your damn time on? Go back to work or something." Mako watches as his brother huffs and faces the wall.

Mako bristles at that, but knows not to take it personally. The nurses said that there'd be days like this, and Spirits knows he had his fair share of bad days himself on the streets. But they got through it together.

He places the food on the dish tray so his brother can reach. Bolin doesn't move.

"C'mon, bro. You gotta eat up." Mako places a hand on his shoulder.

"I said I wasn't hungry."

"I know, but you gotta-"

"I don't wanna _puke again, Mako._ I'm not eating it."

"You have to try, Bo. The sooner you eat and get better, the sooner you can leave."

And his brother grumbles something under his breath that Mako doesn't think he'd want to hear even if he could. He painstakingly watches as Bolin pushes himself up, grunting from the force of his straining lungs, and faces the tray.

With a deep breath, Bolin takes the roll in his hand, and take a bite off the top. Mako smiles slightly.

"There you go..."

Bolin glares.

Mako taps his thighs while Bolin chews, and slouches down in his chair.

After a moment, it dawns on Mako that maybe, a reason for his brother's attitude... is due to the fact that blames him for not being there last night. That Bolin is mad at-

_'Bolin, you can be mad at me, resent me, hell, even hate me. I don't care. Really, I can handle whatever you throw at me'_

Mako swallows and grits his teeth. _Not anymore, I don't know if I can,_ he says to himself.

He wonders how he is going to start the inevitable conversation, and realizes the nagging question that has been a pain in his side since that horrible night he found Bolin, is _what the hell happened_? He needs to know, but doesn't know if this is the wrong time. Especially on a bad day.

He clears his throat. "Soooo..." Mako cringes at the tubes pushing air into his brother's nostrils, "The nurse told me you had a pretty rough time last night," He says softly. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

Bolin shrugs as he works the bread around in his mouth. "You were sleeping."

But he says it in a way that implies that Mako's beauty rest is more important than Bolin's lungs working properly.

And that hurts more than being mad at him.

"Bo...I, um..."

He says it. Just freaking spits it out _just like that_. He's never been 'one with his emotions' but at least he's always had _tact._

_Can you tell me what happened that night when I found you?_

And he knows he should leave now, leave before the words slice deeper and everything is left bleeding, but he's done with pretending things don't hurt, done with being strong enough for two of them. And because _god damn it _that's all he's ever been his entire life, and all he really wants to do is grab his brother by the throat and strangle the sense into him, and hug him at the same time. But instead, he bites the insides of his cheeks until all he can taste is blood, and waits for the words that will inevitably kill him.

Bolin puts his bread down, and look him in the eyes as he says: "I tried to fight a fight way over my head, got the shit beaten out of me, and somehow managed not to die. Then again, what more do you expect from a cripple? I was too useless to defend myself, but I didn't care what the hell happened to me; a girl was in trouble. I had to help her, and I thought 'If this is what I'm left as, I at least wanna do one last good thing before I die'." He says, voice gruff, "And here I am."

Mako lets out a breath, "Well," he smiles, but it looks like a grimace, "I'm proud of you. You helped someone who was in trouble. You did a good thing, Bo. She's gonna remember you for that."

"Then why do I feel so horrible?" He clenches the sheets in his fist. "Why do I feel like shit?"

Mako blinks. Then says, "'cause you're stuck right now. And that's okay. It's gonna get better."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what you said last time."

"It's true, though."

"Whatever."

"...What?"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, anger flashes behind his brother's eyes. "Just go. Just leave me alone!"

"Bolin-"

"When are you gonna except that I'm useless now?!" He exclaims, "I can't _do_ anything anymore. Why do you insist on saving me?"

A month ago Mako would have erected those damned walls again, but _'It's gonna be okay'_ isn't gonna cut it anymore. He's used to it by now, used to the way the words sting his skin and burn him raw, to the way he will never be right in a world where everybody is wrong, and his brother will never be the same. So instead, he clenches his teeth and lets the words stick like angry little bullets along the frayed edge of his heart, and even though it hurts to hear his brother shatter himself, he doesn't stop him. This time it's different. Tough love was called 'tough' for a reason.

And Mako doesn't care how much it hurts both of them, all he cares about is the tightness in his throat and the way the world is spinning like a carousel around him.

And shouting helps, it really does.

"If Mom and Dad were here right now they'd be so sad for you." Mako retorts as he pulls himself to his feet, "All you do is lie here feeling sorry for yourself and waiting for life to be fair, but guess what, Bolin? _It's not fair._ You either hustle of get hustled. And we're just going to have to deal with it, but how the hell can you not see that you're hurting_ me_ just as much as you're hurting yourself right now?"

_You're the only family I have left, and maybe it's selfish, but I'm not ready to lose you, too._

_..._

_._

_..._

_So just shut the hell up and eat something._

The silence is thick and his head hurts, and he knows he should apologize or leave or do _something._ But all he can seem to manage is to sit himself back in the chair, and hold his head in his hands, and wait for his breathing to even out. Eyes closed, body drained, and tired, just so _tired._

_Can't you see how tired I am, Bo?_

He hears the way his brother throat hitches in the silence, suffocated by the weight of the implications around him.

_I'm sorry, Mako._

He buries his head further into his hands, squeezing his eyes until he sees stars dancing in the corners of his vision. He doesn't see the tears his brother sheds, just hears the way they fall so beautifully in the silence.

_Spirits, I'm sorry._

_Please._

_Mako._

_I-I didn't mean to make you sad._

.

.

.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'msorry._

...

And the tears flow like rain.

"It's not okay, Bo, but we're going to get through this, and then it will be; I promise," he whispers as he pulls himself up and wraps himself like a scarf around his brothers frail frame, and soothes like he's been built to do.

"I need you, Mako."

"I need you more, Bo."

..

.

..

Yes, the bad days are nearly enough to destroy everything.

But the good days are worth it.

Bolin begins eating a bit more after that Bad Day. He improves a bit, slowly, but surely, over the next few days. Mako smiles, Asami smiles, Korra smiles. Bolin almost smiles.

The doctors come in and check his vitals and his lungs and his stump.

_The amount of things that you're going to have to learn to do differently,_ the doctor smiles, _greatly out weigh the things you won't be able to do._ _Just remember that._

Bolin says he'll try.

...

.

...

And then, there were the Worst Days.

...

.

...

"He can't breathe—"

"He's crashing!"

"Charge the paddles."

A horrible jolt goes through Bolin's body and he crumples onto the cold bed, feeling like his chest is on fire. _Breathing shouldn't hurt this much,_ he knows. Funny enough was that the voices were getting louder, and the world around him was getting blurrier…

Bolin rolls his head to the side, his hand clutching his chest as he tries to focus on his breathing. _This isn't so bad,_ he tells himself as the pain in his chest begins to subside. Maybe he could just let go...

The world around him begins to come into better focus and stops looking quite so blurry.

He squints, because he'd been sure he just saw someone in the corner.

"BO!"

Someone yells again, something beeps and horrible pressure is put on his chest once more.

"Bolin!" that voice begs again, and somehow, Bolin connects it to his brother's. "Come on, Bo, breathe! I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, just stay with me..."

_But I can't,_ he wishes he could say that. _Everything hurts too much._ His throat is burning and no matter how hard he tries-

"...Am the Avatar!" A new voice yells, "It is by my orders that you do something to help him, _now!"_

"We_ are_ doing something! But you need to leave-"

"No-"

"Korra-!

_"Bolin-!"_

"Get them out of here! Give me five cc of adrenaline, stat!"

"I won't go!" his brother's voice insists. Bolin feels strangely comforted by the illusion-at least he'd die listening to his brother's voice. "Please, Bo, I'm right here. You have to stay. Please, do it for me...you can't leave me here alone..." The voice cracks and it...it sounded like it was crying. Bolin feels small drops of water on his face, and someone holding his hand in such a lifelike grip that Bolin thinks he might lose that hand, too.

As if he is looking through a very fuzzy mover screen, he sees his brother, sobbing and clutching his hand while a team of healers tries to get Mako to go, and one shouting, "Charge it."

"Still nothing…"

Bolin's mouth drops open. "M-mako?" he whispers, because he couldn't remember the last time he had seen Mako crying.

"Again!"

"BO!"

And his eyes flutter open in a burst of color and pain, blobs of people come into focus, and oxygen mask is cold and hard against his face. Mako nearly lunges for him.

"We got him! He's back."

And for the first time in months, Bolin considers that a good thing. Especially when he sees Mako's smile.

_I tried,_ he want to tell Mako,_ real hard, for you._

But he thinks Mako already knows.

...

.

...

The next morning, the illustrious Varrick, in all his glory, makes his way into the room.

"Goooood morning, my fellow patients. Dr. Varrick is here."

Mako jumps from where he is pulling the covers over Bolin.

"Jeez, Varrick, would you keep it down! People are trying to rest."

"Have no fear, my child. Doctor always knows best."

With that last statement, Mako finally turns around, taking in the full scene before him. And what a scene it is. The rich industrialist, has dumped his usual garb for a more seemingly fit pair of blue scrubs, complete with a white coat and a telescope hanging expertly along his neck. Zu Li comes in right behind him, playing the part of a nurse, albeit one a bit too sexy and bias for her department.

Mako's brow raises. "You're joking, right? Tell me you're not impersonating a doctor. I'm not letting you touch Bolin."

"Why not?" He quips, "You impersonate a cop all the time."

Mako sends him dagger eyes. He's sure if Bolin were alert enough right now, he'd laugh.

"I _am_ a cop." Mako tells him, as he refills Bolin's glass of water. "One who can arrest you for impersonating a medical Doctor."

"Hey, I'm not breaking any laws here, kid. I _did_ go to med school in my younger days."

Mako scoffs. "You? Med school? Right. I wouldn't trust you with a sharpened pencil, let alone a freaking needle."

Now it was Varrick's turn to glare. "Nurse Zu Li! Show our stubborn patient the evidence!"

"Yes, sir..."

And the card is in front his face in an instant, the license all laminated and with black ink. Mako's eyes scan the bottom and sees the government seal on it.

"Damn it," he curses, "Who's Life Savings did you have to pay off to get that...?"

Before he can even respond, Varrick walks over to the patient in the bed.

"Hey, Bolin!" he says a bit too loudly, "How we doing, buddy!"

_"Verrick_." Mako hisses.

Bolin's eye's flicker open, as if he wasn't aware anyone else was in the room.

"V...verrick..." He mumbles, his glassy eyes twitching around the room.

Verrick whistles enthusiastically as he takes in the medicine pumping into Bolin's veins from the IV. "Woooooheeyyy. They got'cha on the good stuff, huh, kid?"

"W-where did you," Bolin blinks a couple of times, ...come from?"

"That's a great question, Bolin!" The man sits on the end of the bed, "Where do any of us really come from? If you ask my old man, I came from-"

"Varrick!" Mako growls, "What do you want?"

_"What do I want?" _He jumps up, instantly, putting the end of his stethoscope up to the wall, as if the cement will give back a heart beat. "What I _want_, is six box's of whatever he's on, stat! Zu Li write the name down!"

"I thought you were a doctor." Mako crosses his arms.

"Yeah, like in the stone age! They didn't have cars when I was a kid, Mako! You know what we used to walk with to get around?"

"Your legs...?

"Our legs, darn it!" He jumps up on the cabinet. "If you were lucky enough to have two of them!"

He winces, instantly, turning back to Bolin and apologizing. "Sorry, Bolin. No offense, kid."

"Who are you...?" Bolin asks. "I don't 'member this doctor. I thought you were a girl..." He eyes droop closed again and he moans.

"Bo..." Mako rushes over.

"Huh?"

"You okay?"

"Huh?" Bolin looks around, like he forgot where he was.

"Like I said, " Varrick winks, "Good stuff."

"S-stuff? What stuff...? I don't feel n-nothin'." He mumbles, "I feel really goooddd. I feel awesome, I don't know why I'm even here. Can we go home now, Mako, I f-forgot to feed Pabu..."

With a force Mako has had yet to see in a while, Bolin manages to push himself up on his arm and starts pulling at the IV.

"Bolin! Bo, don't mess with that. You gotta-"

"- B-but were' gonna be late, Mako..."

Mako leans down, "Late?" He asks.

"For our probending match; Toza's gonna yell at us. We gotta- got-_ugh...ahhh..."_

A bitter round of coughing cuts him off. His chest heaves, but air fights to go into his lugs. The back of his throat feels like it's disintegrating and he grips the bed sheets in his fingers_.__ "Gahhh..."_

_"_Bo? _Bo!_" Mako is yelling his name, fingers rubbing his back in soothing circles.

"M-mak-! _Nihhgg!" _The words die in his throat, as he sucks down air, and swallows back bile.

"_Breathe,_ bro, it's okay..." Panic that is barely being contained drips from his voice. Bolin can see Mako's eyes getting blurry again, but his head is too foggy for anything else. "Take it easy..." And after a moment, Bolin's breathing starts slowing down back to normal.

Mako takes a deep breath, "No, bro, you're still sick, you need to rest..."

"Ugh...O-okay...Mako..." He moans, and takes Mako's hand again. Mako pushes his hair back from his forehead. "It hurts..."

Mako nods, knowing that he means his stump. "I know, I know...I'm sorry, but you just gotta take it easy right now, there's nothing we can really do about it at the moment."

Bolin closes his eyes again, and tries to sleep again.

"Hey," and Mako turns back to Verrick.

"Yes...?"

"When he wakes up, I got a present for him! He's gonna love it!" And Verrick smiles a bit too big for his liking.

"Great." Mako mumbles.

He whips a hand over his face, and takes one last affectionate look at Bolin, before going down the hall to get coffee.

"Day by day, Bo. We'll take it day by day..."


	11. Two of a Kind

"You need to get out of here for a while."

Mako looks up from his chair beside Bolin's bed. The Firebender had a now-cold cup of coffee in one hand, and a crinkled up newspaper in the other. You didn't have to be blind to know that every multitude of the elder boy's focus was on the younger boy in the bed. At Asami's statement, Mako just grunts and takes a sip of his coffee.

"He needs me more than ever right now, Asami." He replies, with a tired voice that has long since grown weary of having someone depend on him for the majority of his life. "I can't just leave."

Asami shakes her head and sits down beside him, glancing at the sleeping patient in the bed. The room stunk of alcohol and vomit and blood, and it was a wonder to Asami how Mako could sit here for hours on end with the dreary atmosphere threatening to drown him. Bolin had been doped up on painkillers and medicine throughout the day since his horrific near-death experience yesterday. No one could blame Mako for being paranoid. Asami hadn't had a good night's rest in a week from all the worry and stress about her friend. But Mako needed to take care of himself, too.

And, Spirits, this room was dreary. The place could also use some good air freshener.

"Bolin's just sleeping now, Mako. He'll be fine while I watch over him." And she patted the sleeping boy's leg good-naturedly. Mako opened his mouth to protest, but the heiress shot him a look and continued on. "_You_ on the other hand, need to get some rest and de-stress for a few hours. Go for a walk, or ride your motorcycle, or- file reports or _something_." She says, and Mako just sighs, big and tired. "I'll stay here with Bo for a bit."

"Asami, you don't-"

She held up her hand. "_Go._ Breathe fresh air. Eat noodles. Practice bending. If you sit in this chair any longer it's gonna start molding to you. You can worry about Bolin every five seconds, somewhere else for a change."

With that, Mako put his paper down. He took a long glace at Bolin's still form, before sighing and rubbing his face. "Alright, you win." He relented. "But only for a few hours. Promise to call if something-_anything_-happens, okay?"

"Of course."

"A-and when he wakes up, try to get him to eat something-"

"Mako." She said, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "He'll be fine."

_Or he could stop breathing again,_ the voice in her head chided, but Asami pushed it away. Bolin's shivering body, unmoving and stained with blood as they took him to the hospital, and the horrible week that he lay there between life and death, was keeping her up at night more than she'd dare let on. The truth was that she also wanted to spend some time alone with her friend who was almost like a little brother, without Mako hovering. Because if there was one thing Mako was good at, it was hovering.

Mako sighed once more. "Okay, see you soon." Asami had to nearly push him out the door, and once the young lady had closed the door behind her, she let out a huge breath.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Bo, huh? Don't suppose you're any good at signing contracts?" As expected, the sick boy in the bed, did not stir. But instead of doing her work, Asami found her nerves too on edge, and settled for curing up in the chair in the corner and taking a little nap.

...

.

...

.

...

It felt good to take a breather. After maybe a half-hour of dozing on and off, Asami was shaken from her nap by a small, tired voice calling her name.

"A-asami?" The voice croaked.

She looked up and was surprised to see her friend, with his pale face and breathing tubes, looking at her through half-lidded and tired eyes.

"Bolin!" Asami bolted up and took his hand and gave it a squeeze, the pressure seeming to make him a bit more alert. "How're you feeling?"

His face pinched, like the effort of talking pained him. "Hurts..." He muttered with a grimace. Asami ran a gentle hand through his dirty hair. What she knew Bolin would give for a shower right now. "Can I have...some water?"

"Sure." She smiled. "While we're at it, why don't I get you some dinner? You need to get something in your stomach." Bolin gave a look of protest, so she added, "Come on, you can do it! Just think how happy it will make Mako when he comes back."

Bolin grumbled and tried to sit up a bit. "Okay..."

"Great," She responded, a bit too enthusiastically, "I'll be right back. And the doctor should be checking up on you soon, too." And she started going out the door.

"Asami." And she stopped and turned around.

"What is it?" She asked gently.

"H-how long have I..." He swallowed, thick, trying to form the right words. "I-I mean since last time when I almost d...you know."

The elder girl chewed her lip, and contemplated lying and saying he had just dreamed all that. Dreamt his lungs not working like lung due to the infection, and the doctors shocking his chest, and the heart monitor flat-lining like a pancake. She'd like to say she dreamt it all, too.

"About seventeen hours. But you're gonna be okay."

He looked down at his lap. His voice came out quiet. "And Mako...?"

She gave a weary smile. "As protective as he's ever been. I had to basically push him out the door for him to go get some fresh air. He left about an hour ago, but he'll be back later."

"Thanks, Asami. For everything. You're a really good friend."

She patted his leg. "I'll be right back, okay?" And she closed the door behind her.

* * *

The next morning, when Bolin woke up, Mako was too eager to give him Varrick's 'surprise'.

"Spirits." Mako plopped down on Bolin's bed, beaming so wide that it looked almost painful. "I never thought I'd say this, Bo, but Varrick is a genius! A prosthetic arm—that's brilliant! And you can bend with it, too!"

Mako was too happy in Bolin's opinion. Or maybe that was because he was so tired lately. Either way, he felt like asking _'who are you, and what have you done with my broody brother? I want him back.'_

Bolin stared at the prosthetic arm that Varrick had placed on his bedside. It was grey, made of titanium, and had an Earth Kingdom symbol up on where the forearm would be.

He gazed over at his real arm, covered in scars and bruises that he'd acquired as a child, when he'd run in the Triads, when he'd had surgery. He remembered his arm being kissed in certain places by his parents when he'd fallen down and scratched it. Each centimeter, each inch of it held more memories than an elephant stampede. The prosthetic had no memories to it—it was just a machine.

Bolin had to take several deep breaths to calm himself down. He understood where Varrick and his brother were coming from. But it wasn't the same.

It couldn't be the same.

"Bolin?"

He looked up and tried to smile. "Y-yeah, bro?"

Mako's brow creased, but he said nothing. "Um, are you—are you gonna try it on?" He clasped his hands together in a pleading position, and Bolin found himself envying his older brother for the umpteenth time. "Come on, Bo, this'll be cool!" he wheedled. "You'll look great, it's a nice design and-"

"Okay, okay!" Bolin sighed. "Just...give me a second. I want to try it on by myself."

Mako nodded, and left the room. Bolin could tell he was still happy about Varrick's invention by the look on his face. It was weird, seeing him this way, and due to _Varrick_ of all people. He could still remember the cooky industrialist a few minutes earlier, taking the thing out of its case that Zhu Li was holding, and shoving it in Mako's face after he refused it._ Come on, Mako! Convince him! It'll come in handy- get it? 'Handy'?_

The metal arm on his lap looked less appealing than anything he'd ever seen in his life. And he'd seen a lot of less-than- appealing things.

Bolin pressed a hidden button near the top of the arm where it connected to his shoulder, releasing something pointy that was supposed to stimulate his nerves. He wasn't sure how it worked and didn't particularly care—he'd zoned out during Varrick's explanation.

With a click, the metal arm connected to his flesh. It hurt, and he had to grind his teeth to keep from letting out a yelp. It hurt a lot, actually-like his nerve endings were being heated with fire, flaring throughout his whole shoulder. But he knew if he yelled, Mako would come running._ Grin and bear it, Bo, just like you always do.'_ he told himself.

He was suddenly out of breath as he tried wiggling his fingers. At first it was weird, a strange sensation. But then—

_They moved._

"Spirits," he murmured under his breath, flexing his wrist and fingers over and over again. But there was something off about it, something that didn't feel quite right. It was amazing, what Varrick and Zhu Li had come up with. But it wasn't perfect.

It wasn't his light-skinned, pockmarked arm with enough memories to fill seven books. And that made the arm unbearable.

He didn't know how he was going to get through life with one arm, but this wasn't the answer.

He couldn't get through life with half of himself missing.

_"How're you going to get though life with one arm?"_

_.._

_._

_"Pathetic." He spits out with a shake of his head. "Can't believe I took you seriously for a second there. A freaking cripple for crying out loud! You aren't even worth my time_."

..

.

_"You can't honestly expect the world to change for you, boy. You either learn to use that one pathetic excuse for an arm that you do have, or you get out of my store and you don't come back."_

_.._

_._

Bolin tried to concentrate, and does it so hard that a bead of swear trickles down from his forehead to his upper lip, but nothing changes. He can sense the earth in the room, but he can't do anything about it. It's as if he's trying to move a mountain—nothing is working.

He couldn't bend. Not without an arm, not with a metal one.

Not ever again.

A frustrated scream ripped from his throat. He tore his stupid metal arm from his shoulder, yanking hard enough to cut open the skin that connected it to the metal. He didn't care if he ruined Varrick's work.

And that scared him, just how much he _didn't care anymore._

Bolin tossed the stupid piece of junk arm across the room, and it hit the door, leaving a scuff mark on the brown mahogany.

Five seconds later Mako ran into the room, his eyes wide as he took in Bolin huddled under the bed sheets, the scuff mark on the door, and the metal arm lying on the floor.

"Bo?"

His voice was disbelieving, and Bolin sniffled. "It's wrong," he whispered, and tears poured down his cheeks as he started to sob.

Mako's arms were around him in an instant, soothing him like always, because that was what Mako did. He soothed, he protected.

And Bolin was the worthless one. He'd always be worthless.

Mako shook his head. "But—Bo, why is it wrong? Talk to me. Please."

"It's not the same!" Bolin cried. "V-Varrick's arm, it's different, and it feels bad, and I can't bend, and Spirits, Mako, please don't make me wear it again. Please."

Even as Bolin begged, he knew that Mako's happiness had disappeared like a light switch flicking off. He felt guilty for it, and vowed to make up for it.

But he couldn't do this.

He just couldn't.

"You sure?"

Bolin nodded fervently. "I'm positive. Please, just...don't make me wear it again. I'll tell Varrick it got stolen or something. B—"

"No, it's okay," Mako said, even though it wasn't. "It's okay. You don't have to wear it. It's okay."

Bolin nodded again, not really trusting his voice.

"Shh," Mako soothed. "It's alright."

_That's the thing, though_, Bolin wanted to shout._ I don't know if it'll ever be alright or okay again._

_I don't know if you lose who you are until you lose who you are._

"I don't know how to be okay anymore," he mumbled.

Mako sat down in the bed and brought him close. "That's why I'm here, Bo," he promised. "You'll be fine. You'll learn to bend again and everything alright. I swear. It may take awhile, and it's not gonna be easy, but you're gonna get through this."

* * *

...

* * *

Mako looked up and saw Korra standing across the room. He blinked in surprise; she was looking just as sad as he was. However, he didn't blame her; everyone was afraid for Bolin. He walked over to her. "Hey," he said, his voice shy of a whisper.

Korra's head snapped up in surprise at hearing Mako's voice, but she smiled when she saw him. "Hey," she said back, but then she frowned again when she noticed Mako's sadness, seen as clear as day on his face. "How is he?" Korra asked, even though she knew the answer.

Mako answered her by lowering his head slightly and closing his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

Korra furrowed her brows in concern. "That bad, huh?" she asked, and Mako raised his head, and nodded. At that, Korra began to think about a last resort at helping Bolin. After a minute or so of thinking, her eyes snapped open, and she said, "Have you tried asking a therapist?"

"No, I haven't," Mako replied. "Never really thought about it," he added. "Why, do you know someone who is a therapist?"

Korra let out an airy chuckle and smirked. "You're looking at her," she said, pointing to herself. "I think I might be able to help Bolin properly get back on his legs, if you'll let me."

Mako thought about it for a moment, and then nodded, and Korra walked past him, heading for Bolin's room. "Hey, Korra," he called after her, and she looked back at Mako. He smiled a real smile for the first time in who knows how long. "Be careful, he's as stubborn as a moose-lion."

Korra laughed. "And you never were?" she asked.

They both shared a brief laugh, and Korra stepped inside Bolin's room. Mako, however, frowned again as Korra disappeared inside the hospital room. _'Please, please help him, Korra,'_ he thought to himself.

Inside the hospital room, Korra found Bolin sitting stock-still on his hospital bed. He was deathly silent, and his face was absolutely emotionless. "Hey," Korra whispered gently, but Bolin, as usual, didn't reply. This didn't surprise Korra, but it only worried her further. "Look, I know you may not want to talk, and I don't blame you, but you need to listen to what I have to say."

"Let me guess: Mako asked you to talk to me, didn't he?" Bolin demanded sharply.

Korra was shocked at his angered response, but she held firm and sighed deeply. "Yes, he did, and he wants me to be your physical therapist," she replied, and Bolin blinked in surprise at this.

"My what?" the earthbender replied.

"Physical therapist," Korra repeated. "I want to help you properly get back on your legs. Asami's working on a prosthetic arm for you as we speak, and before you know it, things will be back to normal not only for you, but for everyone."

"That's not true, and you know it," Bolin replied bitterly. "Nothing's going to be the same ever again. I can't bend or do anything anymore."

Korra fixed him with her fiery blue eyes, her gaze hard. "Don't lie to yourself," she snapped. "We all know you truly want to get better, and we want to help you get there. However, we need you to let us help you."

This time, Bolin looked away from Korra, his gaze once again emotionless.

Korra sighed again, this time in mild annoyance. "Look, will you let be your physical therapist or not?" she demanded.

This time, Bolin was looking sad instead of angry. He nodded.

"Great." Korra stated, "I'll be back tomorrow at noon."

...

.

...

It was the next day when Korra and Bolin started doing therapy. Bolin had some difficulties, but he was getting better and better the more he tried.

At the Sato estate, Mako was on his way to talk to Asami about the prosthetic arm she was working on for Bolin. It was a white metal arm that shone brightly in the light of the sun. It looked and felt different than Varrick's, and Mako didn't want to push Bolin too much...but he thought a little pushing was needed now, at least. Mako examined it carefully, and then he glanced at Asami. "Let's show it to him," he suggested, and Asami nodded.

Later, at Air Temple Island, Bolin was undergoing yet another therapy session. He was stretching his good arm side to side in order to get the muscles working properly.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Korra got up to investigate. She opened the door and saw Mako and Asami standing there with the white metal prosthetic arm.

"Come in and show him," she told them.

Bolin lifted his head and asked, "Show me what?"

Korra turned around and smiled at him. "Your new arm, is what," she said softly, and Bolin stood up the instant he saw the thing. He stared at it for a minute or two, and then locked eyes with the others and nodded determinedly, showing them that he would try it. And for the first time in who knows how long, he smiled a real smile, which his friends and older brother gladly returned.


End file.
